


Like Home

by triceratopz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11038995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triceratopz/pseuds/triceratopz
Summary: a long way from the playground.





	1. One

Saturday, December 21, 2013

The snow had just begun to fall as he parked in front of the pub; the large flakes creating a holiday atmosphere on the small English village that rarely saw snow. The flakes clung to his wool jacket, leaving unique damp marks across his shoulders and down his back. He paused to shake out his hair before stepping into the pub, the cozy fireplace heat enveloping his chilled face.

Expectedly, the pub was quiet. Days before Christmas, many of the residents of Holmes Chapel were hosting holiday parties in their homes or preparing for the festivities to come. Save for a few of the regulars conversing with the barkeep, Harry Styles was the only patron in the pub.

Until he saw her.

She was older, taller, but there was no question that the girl sitting in front of the fireplace was none other than Kit Carrington. A pair of tattered boots were kicked under the Queen Anne armchair, her knobby knees splayed apart and resting against the arms of the chair, a thick novel in her grasp. Suddenly, he was transported back to his childhood, back to the small stone house on Byley Lane where the same girl would sit in front of the fireplace, reading anything she could get her hands on and concurrently chattering a mile a minute. She was the only person he’d ever met who could do both activities at once, and he remembered being oddly fascinated by her talent. And, by her.

In a world of straight lines and combed hair, Kit danced through life, messy haired and endlessly barefoot. She wasn’t exactly the prettiest girl in town – gangly and all limbs with her stringy hair and wide eyes set just far enough apart to look odd. Everybody liked her, and yet, close friendships were elusive. No one spoke poorly about her, and yet, no one talked to her. She wasn’t the girl a young boy was supposed to have a crush on, and yet, he did. She wasn’t Emily Albright, with her soft chestnut curls and pretty floral dresses, or Sophia Windsor and her affinity for taking boys behind the tool shed. She was the girl who would chatter incessantly to anyone who would listen – and to those who wouldn’t – about dinosaurs or an episode of Coronation Street from seven years ago. She was the girl who would use Crayola paints to give her hair streaks because the local drug store didn’t carry proper dye. She was the girl who would rub back pain cream all over her body as a perfume because she adored the medicinal scent to it. She was odd, dramatic, energetic and, quite simply, the most wonderful thing in the world.

It had been a few years since he’d seen her last. She was still gangly, as though her body had been rolled through a pasta making machine, but the few inches she’d grown since school put her limbs in closer proportion with her body. Her eyes, still bright and wide, were offset by the thick tortoise-shell glasses, slipping slightly down her upturned nose. She wore a very Kit-like sweater, an oversized knitted number with a large Christmas tree affixed to the front and pilling wool balls adorned to the tree. It would have been a hit at an ugly sweater holiday party, but the hilarity of the sweater was likely completely unintentional.

Her hair, fine and blonde with a mind of its own, was still worn in a long braid down her back. A few fly-aways poked out around her ears, the dry heat of the pub causing the strands to nearly stand on end. As a child, he remembered she’d had a penchant for glitter and colourful Poundland hair clip-ins. Her unique sense of style didn’t stop there – she would often be found wearing cut-off overalls with patterned tights or a nightshirt with a cat on it, cinched up around her waist and tied into place with a hair scrunchie, just because she was Kit Carrington and if she didn’t create her own drum beat to march to, she couldn’t march at all.

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry turned to the barkeep, unaware he’d been speaking to him. “I’m sorry?” he asked, his memory lane flashback fading as he focused on the barkeep and the present situation.

“Your takeaway will be a few more minutes,” the barkeep told him again, sounding unnecessarily apologetic for the wait. It was a tone Harry was used to hearing when someone felt they hadn’t catered to him in the way they thought they should. He wished they would treat him like a normal patron, someone who occasionally had to wait for their food when they showed up fifteen minutes early.

“That’s not a problem,” Harry assured him, waving his hand dismissively. He unbuttoned his jacket, taking off his scarf and looping it around his arm. He shifted his weight, briefly wondering if he should interrupt the girl from his past before taking a few long strides towards the fireplace. He couldn’t leave without seeing her.

“Kit Carrington.” He stated as he approached her. His voice was even, almost emotionless, but a smirk tickled his lips as he spoke her name.

Kit jumped suddenly at the sound of Harry’s voice, the break in the quiet atmosphere startling her. She looked up from her book; her recognition of him almost instantaneous, though the man standing in front of her hardly resembled her brother’s childhood friend – a skinny, mop-topped boy who would spend his weekends eating all of her cereal and throwing pinecones at her from the boys-only tree fort. His hair was longer, though still unruly as it had always been, curling around his ears, and his face had lost a bit of the babyish features he’d had while they were growing up, but she’d know his dimpled grin anywhere.

“Harry Styles.” She answered, uttering his name in the same slow, drawn out tone he’d used for hers. “My goodness… Hi!” She exclaimed after a moment, letting her book fall to the floor with a loud thud as she jumped up, unabashedly wrapping her long arms around his neck. His shoulders were broader and, for the first time in their lives, he was officially taller than Kit. “You’re a proper little ragamuffin now, aren’t you?” She teased him, ruffling her fingers through his shaggy mane. She may not have seen Harry in over three years, but Kit wasn’t known to be bashful.

He laughed a throaty chuckle, running his own hand through his hair. “Grooming’s overrated, isn’t it?” He kidded, remembering one of the nicknames Tim Carrington had bestowed upon Kit as a child – Frizzy Lizzie, after her middle name. Though he knew he’d shouted it from their tree fort, along with an array of other insulting jibes, he wondered if Kit knew he only said the names because Tim had. He hadn’t meant them.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Kit agreed, tucking a strand of her staticky hair behind her ear. “Gosh!” She exclaimed again, holding her hands out in surprise. “The last time I saw you… you and Timothy were chugging stolen beers in the loft, before your prom. Trying not to spill all over your pink little flower,” she added teasingly.

She remembered that day as though it was yesterday. In typical older brother fashion, Timothy hadn’t wanted Kit to be anywhere near him and his friends, but when Kit offered to sneak to the kitchen and steal beers for them, he grudgingly obliged. Tim spent many years assuming his younger sister was fascinated with him and his life, but the only thing in his life Kit was fascinated with was Harry.

She wasn’t the only one who had a crush on Harry Styles, of course. Nearly every girl (and their mothers) in his class and hers thought he was perfect – and those who said they didn’t think so were liars. He was never without female attention, and Kit, with her skinny legs, frizzy hair and vexatious personality – not to mention the younger sister of his best friend – had been completely off his radar.

“It was a boutonnière,” Harry corrected, factiously stern, though flattered she remembered the colour of his accessory. The night of his prom, Kit had tirelessly teased him about the colour of the flower, calling him The Pink Ranger, Harriett and Tinky Winky. He remembered arguing with her about the last name, insisting that it wasn’t funny or clever because Tinky Winky was purple, not pink. It hadn’t stopped Kit, though, and Harry had debated hurrying down to the local floral shop to purchase a new boutonnière, just to find something Kit would like.

“Oh, pardon me,” quipped Kit, flashing Harry a grin. She hadn’t told him then, and she couldn’t tell him now, but he looked incredibly handsome the night of his prom. She’d hoped with all of her heart that his date wouldn’t show up and she could step in and save the day, à la Ross Gellar, but even if his date had lost her mind and for some reason hadn’t showed up, Harry had at least a dozen other girls waiting in the wings – girls with smooth hair and B-cups and girls who weren’t Kit Carrington.

“So, what are you doing here, anyway?” Kit pressed, absentmindedly tugging on her braid. “You have a minute to sit?” She gestured to the chairs, diagonally facing the inviting fireplace, and hoping he would join her. The thirteen year old inside of her was beside herself at the prospect of sitting in front of the romantic fireplace with Harry Styles, but the eighteen year old she was now barely thought of it in that way. There was no question that Harry was even better looking now than he was in school, but her school girl crush on him had long since faded. Some believed in absence makes the heart grow fonder, but Kit was more familiar with out of sight, out of mind.

Not that Harry had been out of sight or mind for anyone with a television set. Since appearing on The X-Factor shortly after his prom, the dimpled charmer from Cheshire had become the heartthrob of the century to more than just the girls from Holmes Chapel. Kit knew his family and friends like Timothy would help keep him grounded, but with the fame and fortune he’d found, he couldn’t still be the boy whose name she would covertly scribble all over her journal. He was the big time now.

Harry paused, her suggestion rolling in his mind. He knew his food would be ready shortly, and his family was waiting at home for dinner. But this was Kit Carrington, the first girl he’d ever had a crush on and the only one to stay in his mind so profoundly after so many years. He found himself stepping towards the chair before he’d even made up his mind.

“Of course,” he determined, settling into the chair across from Kit. He smiled at her, watching as she carefully poured another cup of tea from the small pot. “Looks like you’re getting yourself proper ratted tonight, aren’t you?” he teased, amused that she was sitting in a pub on a snowy day drinking tea, when she could easily do the same thing at home.

Kit chuckled, wrapping her hands around the steaming mug. “Oh, yeah,” she agreed. “I think I really need to start going to those meetings,” she added before taking a sip. The drink was hotter than she’d expected and she coughed, spitting the mouthful back into the mug. “Ouch!” She hissed, unaware of her off-colour behaviour – or at the very least, not caring. The tea was hot, so she spit it out. In her mind, there was nothing crass about her actions.

“Careful,” Harry advised her, chuckling as Kit dribbled her tea back into the cup. It was such a Kit move. The girls he knew now would have rather burned their entire esophagus than spit out the drink, and it was one of the things he loved most about coming home to Holmes Chapel. The girls, the people, were all real – though no one was as real as Kit.

“Burn your mouth, you might not be able to talk,” he told her. “Though… I don’t think that would stop you, would it?” he added teasingly.

Kit rolled her eyes, adding a splash of milk to her mug. “Well… yeah, probably not,” she agreed, seeing no point in arguing with a true fact. Even if her mouth was taped shut, Kit could still find a way to talk. “I can’t help it if I have such interesting things to say, though!” She added haughtily, her words punctuated with a snorting giggle, showing she was unaffected by Harry’s light jab.

“Mm-hmm,” Harry hummed teasingly. “So, what?” He wondered, pulling his coat off and folding it across the arm of the chair. “You still living up here?” He couldn’t picture Kit still living in the same small town. She was always bigger than Holmes Chapel, bigger than Manchester, bigger than the entire United Kingdom. She was too bombastic to stay in the village. The whole world needed to know the likes of Kit.

“Oh, God no!” Kit exclaimed, a bit too loudly. She scoffed, shaking her head vigorously. “No, no… nooo! No,” she added again for good measure. “I moved to London in the summer. Studying English Lit at King’s and… spending my weekends drinking something a bit higher proof,” she laughed, holding up her tea cup in a cheers manner, even though it wasn’t entirely true.

“You always were the smart one,” he mused, his ears perking up when she mentioned she lived in London. He briefly wondered why he hadn’t seen her, and then remembered that London was a huge city, he was never there, and they ran in completely different circles. He felt stupid for even thinking he would see her in the city, and was relieved Kit wasn’t a mind reader.

Kit shrugged dismissively. School had always come easily to her, but she had the added bonus of virtually no social life to interrupt her evenings and weekends of studying. Being in London was different – it was easier to find birds of the same feather in a huge city than in the small village she grew up in, but she still found herself in more often than out. She didn’t think a social butterfly like Harry could ever understand her preference.

“Well, compared to Timothy, I suppose,” Kit answered, rolling her eyes as she mentioned her older brother. Tim wasn’t stupid, not by far. But he’d had a hard time applying himself in school and struggled right through to the end. There was a clear double standard between the Carrington children – if Tim brought home a C+, a national holiday of celebration was declared. If Kit brought home anything less than an A-, she was lectured on her lack of effort.

Harry echoed Kit’s snicker. “How is your idiot brother anyway?” asked Harry, not wanting to discuss his old mate that he still kept in sporadic contact with, but as Tim was the connection between Harry and Kit, he thought it might be polite to ask. Tim was still a terrific friend to Harry, but he was more curious about Kit and what she did with her free time in London. He supposed he could ask, but the thought of asking Kit about her city life and wondering who she spent time with made him flush without uttering a word.

“Oh, he’s alright,” Kit answered vaguely. She wasn’t about to launch into a tirade about her brother’s life in Manchester – mediocre work, mediocre girlfriend, mediocre apartment. “He’s coming down tomorrow for the holidays,” she added. “Bringing some new girlfriend with him, so that should be fun,” she laughed, rubbing her hands together gleefully, insinuating that she planned on interrogating the poor girl for days on end.

Harry laughed, feeling sorry for Tim’s girlfriend already. Kit was never one to bite her tongue or hold back her opinion. “Well, make sure you tell him hi for me, alright? And play nice,” he warned good-naturedly as his gaze shifted up, noticing the barkeep approaching him with his takeaway bags. He found himself feeling disheartened at the sight, not wanting to leave.

“I always play nice,” Kit assured him, knowing Harry would know she was fibbing. She watched him thank the barkeep by shaking his hand, a gesture that she surprisingly found endearing. She stood up as Harry did and offered him a bright smile.

“It was really lovely to see you,” she told him, her voice almost wistful as she looped her arms around Harry’s waist again. She almost suggested they try to have a coffee in London sometime but scoffed at herself, biting her tongue before the silly suggestion escaped. He was Harry. She was Kit. A chance encounter and a short-lived visit were one thing, but their lives outside of Holmes Chapel were as different as night and day.

“You too, Kit,” Harry answered, a small chuckle escaping from his lips as strands of Kit’s wild hair made their way into his mouth. Not wanting to be rude and brush her hair from his face, he let the follicles tickle against his lips as he embraced Kit, easily enveloping the skinny girl in his arms. He reminded himself not to think about how she seemed to fit perfectly with him, but it was too late and the thought was on the forefront of his mind.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” he said, reluctantly pulling away from her. He wondered briefly if he should suggest a planned meeting in London – drinks or coffee, or something more up Kit’s alley, like a taxidermy workshop or the Hampton Court Maze. But despite his celebrity, Harry didn’t think Kit would want to spend time with him. He was her older brother’s friend, and she had her own life in London. She had school and mates she had things in common with. Harry didn’t fit into that life.

“You too,” Kit told him, letting her arms drop from Harry’s waist. She tucked her hair, slightly damp from Harry’s lips, behind her ear as she watched Harry pull his winter garments back on. He buttoned his jacket, adjusting the sleeves before bending over and picking up the bags. Straightening up, he smiled at Kit.

“Bye, Kit-Kat.” He told her, reaching out and gently touching her arm before he could stop himself.

“Bye, Harry Canary.” Kit replied, gently kicking her stockinged foot against his ankle. He smiled at her once more before he turned to leave. As he walked away, Kit glanced down at the chair he’d just vacated. A worn billfold was tucked between the cushions, having fallen out of Harry’s pocket when he discarded his jacket. She picked it up, bounding towards Harry and calling out his name before he reached the doors. “Harry!” Kit called out, reaching out to grab his elbow.

Surprised to hear Kit following him, Harry turned to face the girl, beaming at her as he assumed she wanted to suggest getting together in London. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised but maybe the blast from the past was enough for her interest to be piqued, too. “Yeah?” he asked her, the bright smile remaining on his face. Maybe instead of the taxidermy workshop – which wasn’t something he would enjoy at all – they could go on a ghost tour. He only hoped he wouldn’t get too frightened.

Thrown off by Harry’s jubilant smile, Kit found herself pausing for a moment before holding the wallet out to him. “It must have fallen out of your jacket,” she told him unnecessarily.

“Oh.” Harry answered flatly, his face falling. He could feel his cheeks heat up at his assumption and he hoped Kit couldn’t notice the red hue creeping up from under his scarf. He cleared his throat, reaching out and accepting his wallet from Kit. “Thanks,” he told her, offering her another smile, though more sheepish this time.

“Normally I’d have kept it, but you know where I live, so…” Kit shrugged playfully, her comment causing an idea to form in her head. She shifted her weight, voicing her suggestion to Harry before she talked herself out of it.

“Hey, speaking of…” she began. “I know it’s incredibly short notice, but I was just thinking… My parents are throwing this Christmas, open house hoopla thing tomorrow night. I know you’ve probably got plans, but… if you don’t? I know Timothy and my mother would love to see you…” She trailed off, not wanting to mention that she wanted to see him more as well.

“I mean, no worries if you can’t,” she quickly added, presuming Harry had better things to do with his time home than spend it in a crowded little farmhouse, eating her mom’s uninspired mince pies and being forced to drink too much mulled wine. “But… if you can? Half seven or so?” She smiled, her tone taking on a hopeful pitch.

Harry’s bright smile returned at Kit’s invitation. Over the years, he’d been to many Christmas gatherings at the Carrington house. They always started off as pleasant and traditional, but as the night went on, the mulled wine was replaced with tequila shots and the quiet Christmas music playing in the background became 80s rock hits. The house always felt like his second home and though he hadn’t stepped foot in it in years, something told him it would feel exactly the same.

“I’d really love that,” he told Kit earnestly. “Thank you for the invite. Can I bring anything?” He asked out of respect, even though he knew his offer would be rejected. It always was.

“Just yourself,” Kit told him, matching his wide smile. “And your family, if they’re free, of course,” she added. “I’d love to see Gemma,” she told him, grinning at the thought of Harry’s older sister and her former babysitter – the best sitter, in her mind, because Gemma would let her stay up too late and watch old episodes of Cops on cable.

“I will definitely bring them,” Harry promised. “Thanks, Kit,” he said again, flashing her a dimpled grin. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night,” Kit echoed, beaming. Maybe Harry was still the boy from Cheshire after all.


	2. Two

Sunday, December 22, 2013

“Later on, we’ll perspire, as we drink by the fire! A beautiful sight –”

Tim Carrington eyed his sister from across the kitchen, an amused smirk on his face. “Those aren’t the words,” he advised her, sounding pleased that he knew the proper words to the classic Christmas carol, and his Literature major sister belted out the incorrect words in an incredibly off-key tone. 

Kit looked up from the puff pastry appetizer she was haphazardly assembling and frowned at her brother. “No,” she answered, a questioning uprising to her voice. “I’m right,” she added, squeezing one of the pastries shut, causing a splattering of filling to ooze out. She scooped up the filling with her finger and smeared it along the top of the pastry, unaware it would cause the snack to burn. The rest of the tray looked as though a five year old had prepared them, but Kit couldn’t be bothered to put the effort in to making the appetizers look presentable. As long as they were edible, she would declare it a win. 

Tim’s girlfriend, Tamara, feverishly scrolled through her phone. “Look!” She announced triumphantly, jumping up and thrusting her phone in Kit’s face. “Look, see? Later on, we’ll conspire… as we dream by the fire! See?” she asked, keeping her phone inches from Kit’s face. 

“Yes, I can read. Thank you,” Kit answered shortly, meeting her brother’s eyes and raising her eyebrows, silently asking him this one? Really? Tim replied with a shrug before gesturing to his chest, insinuating that Tamara was not lacking in that department, and nothing else mattered. Tim’s girlfriends rarely had anything but their bra size going for them, and this one was no exception. Kit rolled her eyes at him before turning back to the pastries. Tamara, not seeing the silent exchange between the siblings, leaned over Kit’s shoulder and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. 

“Those don’t look very good!” she added, her voice cheery, unaware as to how rude her comment sounded. She reached across the counter and picked up one of the puffs, making a face. “Like, they’re all different sizes and… stuff is gushing out of them!” 

Kit snatched the snack out of Tamara’s hand, placing it back on the tray. “This is how we do it in our family,” she snapped, swatting her hand against Tamara’s arm. She wondered if Tamara knew that Kit was the one person who could make her go from girlfriend to ex-girlfriend really quickly. She’d done it before and she already knew she would do it again. 

Tamara clutched her arm dramatically, letting out a yelp. “Hey!” she exclaimed, casting a wounded look in Tim’s direction. He quickly looked away, pretending he hadn’t noticed the minor quarrel between his girlfriend and his sister. Picking sides between the two girls wouldn’t end well for him –he knew he would always take his bratty little sister’s side, which wouldn’t go over well with Tamara. 

“Sorry,” Kit apologised innocently, sidestepping and bumping her hip against Tamara’s, shoving her out of the way. “It’s just such a small kitchen! Pardon me, please,” she added, elbowing the girl in the ribs and biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from smirking. 

“Why don’t we go outside and see if Dad needs help with the lights?” Tim suggested, quickly standing up and taking Tamara by the arm, leading her out of the kitchen. He shot a look over his shoulder at Kit, silently warning her to be nice. Laughing loudly, Kit shook her head at him. She knew she could play nice, but it didn’t mean she was going to.   
“Mmm! Everything smells delicious, darling!” Penny Carrington announced, her cheeks rosy from the mulled wine as she found her way back to the kitchen a few moments later. She sashayed towards Kit, taking dancing steps in time with the Christmas carols coming from the stereo and splashing drops of her drink from the top of her glass. 

“Nothing’s in the oven yet,” Kit reminded Penny, dropping the last of the pastry puffs onto the tray. Her mother was a lovely soul, kind and generous and put on the planet for the sole purpose of being a mother. Her scattered way of thinking was endearingly bothersome, though since moving to London, Kit found her mother to be more endearing than bothersome. She missed her. 

“Oh!” Penny mused absent-mindedly, dragging her fingers through Kit’s hair before lifting the lid off the slow cooker, scooping another serving of mulled wine into her glass. She smiled at Kit, her eyes bright. “Thank you for taking over, love,” Penny said to Kit, as though it was a rarity. In actuality, Kit preparing the holiday party snacks was as traditional as the drink in her mother’s glass. Penny always set the plan in motion – party planning was one of her many fortes, but party executing was an entirely different ballgame. 

“Of course,” Kit replied, sliding the tray of treats into the oven. She wiped her hands on her pants and glanced around the messy kitchen. “Well, I’m about done,” she decided, even though she wasn’t. “I think I’m going to go find some clothes to wear,” she added with a sigh. If it were up to her, Kit would have been lounging around the house in leggings and a massive sweater, optional bra. But Penny insisted that a holiday party meant holiday dresses and therefore Kit would have to wiggle her lanky body into a curve-hugging garment, whether she liked it or not. 

~*~*~*~

“Bit of a time warp, isn’t it?” Harry’s mother commented, peering out the car window at the small home nestled among clusters of pine trees and shrubbery. A manicured lawn may have existed in decades past, but the foliage had taken over and created a whimsical, Seussian quality around the property. 

Harry nodded, easing the car down the narrow driveway. If he squinted, he could almost see the piles of pedal bikes that used to be strewn about the yard, old playing cards clipped to the spokes to ensure each bike sounded as though it was a race car. “It’s definitely been awhile,” he replied, feeling guilty that he hadn’t been back to visit his friend’s parents – his second home, really – since he’d left Holmes Chapel. But there were a lot of people he hadn’t visited. Everyone seemed to understand, though it didn’t make him feel any less bad about it.

“It was nice of Catherine to invite you,” Anne continued, using Kit’s full name, as most adults did. It sounded odd against his ears. Catherine was quiet, reserved, boring… everything Kit wasn’t.

“Us,” he corrected quickly. He’d been telling himself all day that it wasn’t a solo invitation; it was a cordial family invitation. Kit would have invited Anne or Gemma personally, if they were the ones she’d seen. It didn’t mean anything. He found himself feeling somewhat disappointed by the revelation, but he pushed the feeling aside. 

Anne let out a quiet chuckle but didn’t elaborate. “Yes, us,” she agreed, though her giggle said otherwise. Harry eyed his mother curiously but didn’t have time to question her tone as he parked the car behind a decrepit old Mitsubishi that he was certain belonged to Kit.

“We should have brought something,” Harry told his mother suddenly, sounding panicked at the prospect of entering the Carrington house without a hostess gift. Anne furrowed her brow at her son and held up the slender wine gift bag in her hand.

“We did,” she reminded him. “And you spent the better part of half an hour picking it out.”

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, the bottle of expensive French wine looking suddenly small and pathetic. “But we should have brought food or something. Or flowers. Flowers would have been nice.”

“Why are you so concerned,” asked Anne as she got out of the car, meeting Harry at the front of the vehicle. “The wine is lovely.”

“I suppose,” answered Harry with a loud sigh, disdainfully gazing at the bag in his mother’s hand. It was fine. It was a nice bottle and wine was a completely acceptable hostess gift. But “nice” and “acceptable” weren’t qualities that would impress Kit. 

Anne chuckled, shaking her head at her son. “Come on,” she told him, linking an arm through his as they walked to the front door. 

The first thing Harry heard when he stepped into the Carrington house behind his mother was the incredibly off-key, shrieking duet of All I Want for Christmas is You between Kit and Tim Carrington. It sounded as though they were competing for the title of Worst Caroler of 2013 – and knowing the competitive Carrington kids, it was quite likely there was a bet on the table.

“Don’t mind them, I think they’re both rather pissed,” Penny Carrington informed Harry and Anne, her own bright eyes indicating she may be in the same boat as her children. Reaching her arms out towards Harry, she smiled at him. “It’s so wonderful to see you, my love,” she cooed to Harry, enveloping him into a tight hug.

“You’ve gotten so tall,” she added, pulling away from Harry and holding him at an arm’s length, examining him. “You used to be quite the little midget, weren’t you?” she asked teasingly, looking towards Anne and sharing a giggle with her old friend before pulling her into a hug as well.

“I wasn’t that small,” Harry protested good-naturedly, knowing that he had been. “But it’s good to see you, too,” he added, looking around the small house before him. He didn’t think anything had changed, except maybe the curtains above the sink. He supposed it hadn’t been that long – just a couple of years – but given how drastically his life had changed, it felt like many lifetimes ago since he’d stood in the house.

“Little Kitty was quite happy that she saw you,” Penny informed Harry, gesturing for the two of them to follow her deeper into the house.

“She was?” asked Harry, his voice sounding more excited than he’d intended, causing Anne to shoot him a knowing look, which he chose to ignore. He didn’t need Anne knowing he still harboured a schoolboy crush on Kit. Unbeknownst to him, she already knew. 

“Hmm… Oh, yes,” Penny replied airily. “Here, let me take your coats,” she said, not elaborating on her comment. Harry wanted to press further, but as Penny reached out to take his coat, he couldn’t think of a way to urge her to continue the story, so he handed her his coat, leaving the rest of the story unfinished.

“Thank you,” Harry told Penny, staring at her in an attempt to silently will her to tell him what else Kit had happened to say about their chance encounter the previous day. He felt a bit silly, like an over-zealous school girl, but he found himself desperate to know why Kit had been so happy to see him.

Instead, Penny smiled at Harry and nodded towards the stairs. “In case you didn’t hear them, Timothy and Kitty are in the loft,” she told Harry. “My niece Polly is up there, too, along with Timothy’s… girlfriend,” she added, rolling her eyes at the term and uttering a dejected sigh. “We can’t pick all of their loves, can we?” she asked Anne, sighing again dramatically, easily conveying her true feelings about Tamara to Anne and Harry.

“No, but we certainly try, don’t we?” answered Anne, smirking in Harry’s direction. He pursed his lips together and shook his head at the two women in front of him.

“On that note…” he said decidedly, shaking his head again before bolting up the stairs to the loft. At the top of the narrow staircase was a small landing – the loft. Kit’s bedroom was on the right side of the room, Tim’s on the left. The loft was furnished with a couch and armchair, not leaving much room for the two bookcases and TV stand shoved into the corner. It was overwhelmingly crowded and yet perfectly cozy at the same time.

“Oh, my God!” Tim shrieked, turning around as he heard Harry’s footsteps on the stairs. He pressed his hands against his cheeks and jumped onto the seat of the couch, bouncing up and down as he imitated a hysterical fan. “It’s Harry Styles from One Direction!” He dropped his hands from his face, flapping them around as he leapt over the back of the sofa, landing in front of Harry. He flashed his friend a grin, thrusting his hand towards him. “Good to see you, mate,” he stated in a normal tone, shaking Harry’s hand. 

Harry laughed at Tim’s re-enactment of a fan. It was entirely too accurate but he wasn’t going to tell him. One of the greatest things about being home in Holmes Chapel was that he wasn’t Harry Styles from One Direction. He was Little Harry, Gemma’s Brother and just Harry. He liked being just Harry, even if just for a few days. 

“You too, brother,” Harry replied, the handshake seguing into a back-thumping, manly hug. Over Tim’s shoulder, Harry spotted Kit, sprawled sideways on the armchair. Her skinny legs were draped over the arm of the chair, her head propped against the other arm. She looked to be wearing a nice holiday dress, but the formality of the outfit was misguided by the thick, wool socks tugged up her calves. She had been laughing at something Polly was saying, eyes squeezed shut as she cackled, but as Tim and Harry hugged, Harry’s eyes met hers. 

“I’m more of a Zayn girl myself,” she called over to Harry teasingly. “Is he here?” She flashed Harry a bright smile, ignoring the tummy flip-flop she’d experienced when he came up the stairs. She hadn’t expected Harry to show up, but she found she’d been hopeful for his arrival all afternoon. She dropped her legs to the floor and tugged on the hem of her dress. Suddenly, she felt ridiculous in the lace dress that was too red, too short. After seeing the never-worn dress, Polly had insisted that Kit wear it, but she wished she’d put her foot down and wore the black A-line instead. 

“Sorry,” Harry lamented, shrugging wistfully as he watched Kit stand up. Her dress clung to her gangly body, creating the illusion of curves. He was surprised to see Kit in something so feminine and it took him a moment to realise he was staring at her. “Uhm… just me,” he added, hoping his face didn’t match Kit’s dress. 

“I guess that’ll do,” Kit joked, stepping around the sofa, not noticing Harry’s stares. “Thanks for coming, though!” She told him earnestly, encircling her arms around Harry’s waist in a greeting. Inhaling, she was surprised she noticed how delicious Harry smelled. She gave her head a quick shake, pulling away from him. “Do you remember our cousin, Polly?” She asked, nodding to the plump girl sitting against the bookshelf in an attempt to forget about Harry’s cologne. 

“Of course,” Harry replied, still feeling Kit’s body against his after she pulled away. He didn’t remember Polly well, but he didn’t want to be rude. “How are you, Polly?”

“Fucking legless, love,” Polly announced, her head swaying slightly as she slurred out the words, holding up her mug of mulled wine. “Happy holi-Christmas-days,” she added, smirking up at Tim as he clunked his own mug against her head, stepping over her to reach the couch.

“My lady was pretty keen on meeting you, but she needed to put herself to bed a bit ago,” Tim said to Harry, shrugging unsympathetically. Sober Tamara was irritating enough… Drunk Tamara was unbearable. “Think she tried to keep up with this one,” he added, shaking his head at his cousin, though a hint of a proud smile on his face. 

“That’s too bad,” Harry commented, though he didn’t care if Tim’s girlfriend was around. Judging by Kit and Penny’s opinions of her, it was just as well that she was tucked into bed. 

“Come, sit!” Kit urged, placing her hand lightly against Harry’s back, directing him towards the couch. “Let’s see if Polly left anything to drink,” she added, lightly teasing her cousin, who didn’t seem to hear Kit’s comment. “We brought Mom’s slow-cooker up here,” she added with a giggle, pointing to the appliance sitting in front of the television set. 

“Brilliant,” Harry joked, settling on the end of the sofa as Kit kneeled in front of the slow-cooker, sloppily spooning the drink into a festive Santa Claus mug. “Gemma’s sorry she couldn’t make it,” he added, reminding himself to stop checking out Kit’s body. The dress was definitely the Christmas miracle of the year. “She had a dinner party tonight. But she wanted me to get your number for her, so you can get together in London.” He paused, wondering if Kit would believe him. Gemma had said she would like to see Kit, but the part about Harry getting Kit’s number was his own idea, for his own benefit. He felt a bit devious, but he didn’t know if he could ask Kit for her number for himself. 

“Oh, that would be so fun!” Kit exclaimed, turning back to Harry and handing him his drink. “And then you can come, too,” she added gleefully, plopping back down on the armchair and slurping from her own mug.

Taken aback by Kit’s suggestion, it took Harry a moment to nod in response. “Yeah,” he agreed, unable to conceal his wide smile. “That would be lovely. Maybe… we can make it happen sometime after the New Year?” he proposed, not about to let Kit’s suggestion be one of the cordial invitations that was always just talked about and never planned. Spending time together in London would happen, even if his older sister had to tag along.

“So can I… what’s your number?” he asked, fiddling with his phone and feeling awkward as he asked his best friend’s sister for her phone number while said best friend was sitting beside him. But as far as Tim was aware, the number was for Gemma, not Harry, and Harry wanted Tim to keep thinking that way. 

“Oh yes,” Kit chirped, jumping up from the chair. She settled along the wide arm of the sofa beside Harry, stretching her legs out as she reached for his phone. “Gimme gimme,” she told him, rubbing her fingers together. She exhaled, attempting to keep her giddiness at bay. She didn’t think Harry Styles would have ever asked for her telephone number. Granted, he was asking for his sister, but she felt a little thrill at her number being in his phone, and wondered how elated her thirteen year old self would have been.

Distractedly, Harry passed his phone to Kit. Her close proximity to him and the feeling of her hip bone pressed against his shoulder was enough to cause ass-kicking worthy thoughts to run through his mind. He furtively glanced at Tim, hoping his friend hadn’t noticed Kit’s perch on the couch. Tim was watching them, but he had an entertained grin on his face – hardly the face of a protective older brother. 

“You know she’s probably texting all of your ex-girlfriends right now, yeah?” Tim commented, nodding at Kit, who was tapping her way through Harry’s phone. “I haven’t trusted Kit with a phone since she pretended she was me and told Violet Ross she ought to get herself checked for the herps.”

“Oh, I did not,” Kit lied, carefully selecting an emoji to text to herself, ensuring Harry’s number would be safely in her own phone. She looked up, the faces of Tim, Polly and Harry all staring at her in disbelief. “Okay, I did,” she determined with a shrug, handing Harry back his phone. “But you have to admit… she was quite the little dirty birdie,” Kit added, sliding off the arm of the couch and plopping herself back into the armchair, unaware that Harry would have preferred that she stayed beside him. 

“All the fun ones are, hey mate?” Tim answered with a laugh, reaching over and smacking Harry’s arm. “I reckon you’ve had some right freaky dames between your sheets,” he added, a dreamy look crossing his face, as though he was imagining being Harry for a day. 

Harry flushed a deep crimson, scowling at Tim. “Ermm… well… what happens in the sheets, stays in the sheets,” he offered, attempting to sound mysterious and hoping he didn’t sound like the womanizer he wasn’t. The media easily bestowed the title of Ladies Man on Harry almost immediately upon inception of the band. It wasn’t true, but being the young, curly-haired charmer, it became canon. He hated it – and he especially hated it when a cute girl was within earshot of the lewd comments her brother was likely about to make. 

“Oh, come on!” Tim protested, a cheeky grin on his face. “Tell me a story!”

Polly scoffed loudly. “Timothy, stop being so smarmy!” she scolded. “Just because you talk about bed mates as if they’re objects doesn’t mean an incredibly handsome… charming… beautiful… Ermm…” Polly trailed off, seeming to lose her train of thought as she admired Harry. “I’ve lost it,” she said after a moment, shrugging carelessly. “Put a sock in it,” she ordered, taking a drink. 

Kit giggled loudly, grabbing a remote from the end table and tossing it in Tim’s direction. “She told you!” she snickered, pleased that Polly had shut Tim up. Growing up with Tim, Kit had heard a lot of stories about a lot of girls – and they never bothered her. But the thought of hearing Harry regale the group with tales of his promiscuous trysts didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t know why, but she would almost rather hear Tamara quote Mean Girls while discussing the best Instagram filter than hear about Harry’s clandestine rendezvous with Taylor Swift. Almost. 

“Sorry, mate,” Harry apologised with a laugh, relieved that loud-mouthed Polly had taken it upon herself to tell Tim to stuff it, knowing he couldn’t do it himself. 

“I’ll still… Jesus Christ, that’s obnoxious!” Tim said, changing his statement and making a face as Kit’s phone began to ring, emitting a high-pitched whistle simulating a dropping sound before seguing into a rising tone. “Only dogs should be able to hear that sound.”

“Suppose that’s why you heard it,” Kit answered sweetly, looking at the call display on her phone. She hesitated for a nearly unnoticeable moment before ignoring the call, setting her phone on the end table beside her. Looking up, she caught her brother’s eye, knowing he saw her hesitation and the uncomfortable look on her face. 

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice stern as he stepped into his role as older brother. 

“No one,” Kit replied, taking a drink and silently telling Tim to drop it. She knew he knew exactly who was on the other end of the line, but she didn’t want to discuss it with him, not now. Not ever, truthfully, but she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky. 

“Jesus, Kit,” Tim spat out, his voice coated with disgust. “Was it fucking Kevin?”

“Who’s Kevin?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. He knew it wasn’t any of his business, but he caught the looks between Tim and Kit, and knew this Kevin character wasn’t someone who should be calling Kit. He felt a need to protect Kit, though his reason was obviously different than Tim’s. 

Kit scowled at Tim, wishing she still had the remote control beside her to throw at him. Instead, she tugged on the ends of her hair, maintaining her glare in Tim’s direction. “He’s just a… he’s my… my boyfriend,” Kit directed to Harry, her head dropping, an unexplainable feeling of guilt washing over her as she proclaimed her relationship status. 

“Your boyfriend?” Harry repeated, the word sounding foreign as he spoke it. If it wasn’t for her downward gaze and awkward hair-twirling, he would have bet she was kidding. Maybe she still was. Kit’s jokes weren’t usually stand-up quality, and this one certainly wasn’t. But, no… she was serious. The revelation that Kit wasn’t available caused a heavy weight to settle in the pit of his stomach. 

“Your what!” Tim exploded, his outburst making Harry’s statement almost inaudible. “Are you a fucking idiot, Kit? Again? After all of the shit he pulled? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What did he do?” Harry persisted, feeling frustrated that he didn’t know what was going on. Tim was one of the biggest dolts Harry ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he didn’t make it a habit to speak to his sister with such vulgarity. 

“Calm down,” Kit told Tim, irritated that her brother was making such a scene about her relationship. “He’s not as bad as you think, Timothy! And if you want to talk about shitty boyfriend and girlfriends…” She trailed off, jerking a thumb towards his bedroom door, where the sound of Tamara’s drunken snores softly floated into the loft. 

Tim scoffed loudly. “Tamara never lied about her age to me and slept with my roommate just because I wasn’t home!” He retorted, shaking his head. “This fucking guy is, what, twenty six or some shit?” He asked, directing his question to Kit but explaining the situation to Harry. “Said he was twenty, and this one bought it. Moved into her place in London almost as soon as she did, no fucking job or anything… Got this one to pay for everything. Real fucking prize. Dumped her in the fall for some broad even younger than Kit!” Tim exhaled a loud sigh, shaking his head again. “Just fucking tell me he’s not living with you,” Tim stated, almost pleadingly. 

“He’s not,” Kit bit out, crossing her arms in a huff across her chest, mortified that Tim just spilled all of her sordid relationship details to Harry. She wanted her life in London to seem exciting and impressive, not quite on the same calibre as Harry’s life, but maybe close. Instead, the apparent wretchedness of her life and her boyfriend was now spread out on the table, for everyone to see and no one to be impressed by. 

Harry clasped his hands together, Tim’s words crashing together erratically in his mind. Hearing that Kit had a boyfriend was enough of a punch to the gut for one night, but knowing that he was nothing more than a pathetic loser who somehow managed to snag the most wonderful girl in the world and subsequently treat her like garbage made him want to throw up. And introduce Kevin to his fist.

“Sounds like a… real piece of work,” Harry stated, careful to keep his voice even. He didn’t want to insult Kit’s choice of a partner, but she needed to know she deserved so much more than someone who didn’t think she hung the moon. “Are you happy?” He asked Kit, the words feeling as though he was forcing them through a brick wall, but needing to know. 

Kit stood up abruptly, grabbing her phone from the table. “Of course,” she answered, her voice tighter than she’d intended it to be. It wasn’t Harry’s fault that Tim had a big mouth, or that she had terrible taste in men. Still, it didn’t make the situation any less humiliating. Refraining from telling the group she’d be back – as much as she wanted to – she glared down at her brother as she brushed past him. 

“Thanks, Tim,” she told him quietly, sarcasm with an undertone of sadness evident in her tone, before disappearing down the stairs.


	3. Three

“Jesus Christ,” Tim spat out as Kit retreated down the stairs. He sighed loudly, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” he wondered, not directing his question to either Harry or Polly, but expecting an answer from both of them. “This guy makes Jacob Oakley look like a fucking saint. Remember that idiot, Jacob Oakley?” Tim asked Harry, scoffing as he shook his head. “Got in a wreck of trouble for kicking his ass, but it was worth it.”

“Yeah,” Harry commented distractedly, fighting the urge to follow Kit down the stairs. “Hard to imagine someone worse than Jacob Oakley,” he added, remembering the schoolyard bully from grade school. “Why would she want to be with someone like that?” he asked, careful to keep his feelings about Kit under his hat. He didn’t think Tim would have the same reaction as he did with the Kevin bombshell, but protective brothers could be scary. He knew, he was one. 

“You guys are idiots,” Polly spoke up, easing herself up from the floor onto the armchair. “Oh that’s better,” she sighed happily, taking a long drink. “I mean, you’re beautiful and obviously a god…” she added to Harry, her voice taking on a dreamy tone for a moment. “But you’re both idiots.”

“Why?” Harry and Tim asked in unison, both sounding incredulous, as though it was the first time anyone had said that to either of them. 

Polly scoffed, crossing her legs in front of her daintily. “Kevin pays attention to her,” she told them simply. “In case you don’t remember, no one ever paid attention to Kit. How many dates did she go on in school?” Polly continued, asking Tim with a raised eyebrow.

Tim made a face, snickering. “Hell if I know,” he told Polly. “I was too busy going on my own dates to know what that one was up to,” he added, knowing well enough not to expect a high five from Harry, but fighting to resist the natural urge to lift his hand. 

“Sure you do,” Polly insisted, holding up her hand, fingers bent into an o-shape. “Zip. Zilch. Nada. No one here paid her a lick of attention. She goes to London and bam! Some good looking, older guy – sorry, Timmy, but he’s pretty foxy – gives her the time of day, and she’s putty in his hands.”

“But if he’s not a nice person, why would she want to be with him?” asked Harry, the entire situation baffling him. Kit was always the girl who stood up for herself. Even when the popular girls were mocking her hair or her clothes, she was confident and proud, and didn’t let their taunts get her down. Meekly letting someone walk all over her wasn’t the Kit he remembered. 

“You’ve never been a lonely girl, have you?” Polly said to him, shrugging wistfully. “Attention is attention, good or bad.”

“I find it hard to believe he’s the only guy giving her any kind of attention,” Harry continued, his brow furrowed. “Surely there’s someone who knows just how wonderful she is…” He trailed off, seeing Polly eyeing him questioningly. Feeling his face heat up, he grabbed his phone and tucked his chin against his chest, scowling as he thumbed through his contacts.

“Never mind,” he mumbled, scrolling quickly through his contacts before opening up a new text message. The number in the address bar belonged to a nice girl, a pretty girl… a boring girl, a tiresome girl. But, a single girl. He typed out a charming message, knowing she would answer right away. She always did. He stared at the screen, reading the message back to himself before deleting it with a quiet sigh. She wasn’t the one he wanted. 

Polly watched Harry as he fiddled with his phone, realizing his feelings for Kit even in her drunken stupor. She smirked at him, shakily placing her mug on the coffee table before standing up. Walking past Harry towards the bathroom, she nudged his foot with her own, causing him to look up at her.

“Don’t go practising your Oscar speech, puppy dog,” she advised him, raising her eyebrow knowingly. A look of shock covered Harry’s face but Polly held up a finger to her lips, indicating she would keep Harry’s not-so-subtle secret between them. He exhaled loudly, relieved that Polly wasn’t running to tell Kit her discovery. If he couldn’t have her, the last thing he wanted was her knowing he wanted her. 

As Polly vacated the loft, Harry shifted his position on the couch and turned to Tim. “So…” he began, covering up his sigh with a snicker. “Manchester, huh? How’s that?”

Luckily for Harry, Tim was a complete dolt and also massively self-absorbed. He hadn’t caught any of the obvious hints pointing towards his oldest friend having feelings for his baby sister, and talking about himself was his favourite hobby. 

“Yeah, mate,” Tim answered, stretching his leg out on the sofa. “It’s pretty sick. Nice to be out of this place, for sure. City chicks are a lot better than these small town things, that’s for sure. Right?” he added, wagging his eyebrows. “Come on!” He urged, desperate for a horny story from Harry.

Harry chucked, shaking his head wordlessly. Desperate to get his mind off of Kit and her loser boyfriend – and to get Tim’s mind off Harry’s sex life – he launched into the role of interviewer, asking Tim questions that would make the likes of Oprah and James Corden proud. He was about to ask Tim where in time he would go, if he could go back in time, when Polly stomped back up the stairs. 

“Idiots, there’s food down there,” Polly announced, empty bladder and plate full of appetizers. “Better hurry, Kit’s already on her second plate.”

“Is she coming back up here?” Harry asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself. He kept his head down, staring at his phone again in an attempt to appear nonchalant about Kit’s whereabouts. Just because Polly was already aware of Harry’s crush on Kit didn’t mean he had to flaunt it. 

She snickered gently. “I don’t know, but she’s down there,” she told him pointedly. “Sitting beside Grandpa and listening to him talk about which cat litter is the best. It’s Arm and Hammer, by the way,” she added, flopping back into the arm chair. “Maybe you ought to go give your opinion,” she added suggestively to Harry.

“I don’t have a cat,” he told Polly. The thought of discussing cat litter with Kit’s grandfather sounded like the worst pastime imaginable. But he was downstairs with Kit, so maybe…

“Oh,” he added after a moment, cluing into what Polly was suggesting. “My sister has one though,” he told Polly, playing along with her story.

“Grandpa’s always open to suggestions,” Polly replied with a snicker. Tim watched the conversation between the two of them, shaking his head.

“Who cares about cat litter when there’s fried food?” he asked, rolling off the couch and hurrying downstairs. Harry stood up, accidentally catching Polly’s eye. He gave her a sheepish smile before breaking eye contact again, causing Polly to chuckle loudly.

“Could you be any more obvious?” she wondered good-naturedly. “Go on,” she told him, gesturing to the stairs. “And be sure to rave about the hideous food. She made it.”

“It’s not… I mean, I’m not going to…” Harry trailed off, sighing. There was no point in trying to convince Polly that Kit didn’t make his hands clammy and his heart flutter. He waved his hand dismissively. “Thanks,” he finished, shrugging. He wanted to plead with Polly to not tell Kit, but something told him she would be true to her word and keep it between Harry and herself. He didn’t know Polly, but he appreciated her trustworthiness. 

The group downstairs must have been mostly relatives, as the decibels coming from the reception room were definitely Carrington-calibre. Harry watched Tim load up a plate, precariously balancing pastries atop one another before squirting an orange sauce all over the bite sized morsels.

“Help yourself, mate,” Tim said to Harry, holding out a plate to him. Harry didn’t notice – his attention was focused on the girl on the other side of the wall, not the piles of food in front of him.

“Hmm? Oh, thanks,” Harry said, taking the plate from Tim. He held it between his hands for a moment before setting it down on the counter.

“I’ll get something in a minute,” he told Tim. “Just going to go say hi to the room.”

He walked into the crowded room, almost unnoticed as everyone was busy laughing and socializing. He spotted Kit in the corner of the room, sitting backwards on the piano bench, silently watching the party. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and sat down on the small bench beside Kit. She looked up at him and met his eyes, giving him a smile that made his heart feel light and heavy at the same time.

“Hi,” he said, bashfully matching her smile, unsure as to what else to say.

Kit’s heart skipped a beat as Harry took a seat beside her, surprising herself. “Hi,” she echoed, letting out a chuckle, sheepishly looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry you had to witness that lovely sibling moment up there,” she apologized, feeling more embarrassed about her relationship status and subpar boyfriend than snapping at Tim, but not wanting to bring Kevin up again.

“That’s okay,” Harry assured her, watching her wring her hands together and wishing he could grab one of them. Instead, he clasped his own hands in his lap and surveyed the crowd.

“Mom looks like she’s having fun,” he observed, catching his mother’s eye from across the room. Anne offered Harry a wave, a bright grin stretching across her rosy cheeks. In unison, Harry and Kit waved back. Anne laughed before turning to Penny, whispering something to her old friend. 

“Your mom’s so pretty,” Kit commented, spinning around on the bench to face the piano keyboard. She wondered if she would have a nicer boyfriend if she was pretty like Anne. She tugged on the ends of her hair again, staring at the bright ebony and ivory keys in front of her. 

“She is,” Harry agreed, copying Kit and spinning around as well. He wanted to tell her that she too, was pretty, but the words playing through his mind sounded forced and shallow. Instead, he ran his fingers lightly across the top of the keys. “You were supposed to teach me how to play this,” he remembered suddenly, letting out a short chuckle at the memory.

Kit laughed loudly.” I think it was your mom, not you, who wanted me to teach you,” she told Harry, tapping a few chords out. She was quiet for a moment, letting her fingers dance across a few more keys before continuing. “I don’t think you’d have wanted to spend that much time with me.” Her voice was quiet, almost as if Harry wasn’t meant to hear her words.

Harry turned to look at Kit, watching her face as she concentrated on tapping a series of random notes. Was that really how she remembered their childhood? In her mind, was he someone who didn’t want to have anything to do with her? The thought took him by surprise, a feeling of anguish coming over him. “I always wanted to spend time with you,” he admitted to her after a pause, his voice quietly matching hers. I still do, he thought to himself, but kept the sentiment in past-tense. 

Stunned, Kit looked up at Harry, a wide smile on her face, as though his statement had been the best thing she’d ever heard in her life. “Well then,” she affirmed, gesturing to the keys. “No time like the present, then. Put your hand here. No, one over,” she told him, nudging his hand into position. “Yes, right there. Pretend they’re numbered… One, two… three, four, five… and six.” She tapped each of the keys as she spoke the numbers, careful not to touch his hand again. She didn’t want to think about the electricity that radiated through her body when they connected.

Harry obliged, following Kit’s directions. He tried not to notice the shock he felt in his hand when she touched him, but it was impossible not to. He cleared his throat, keeping his fingers placed along the ivories.

“One, two, three?” he asked for clarification, pressing on each of the keys as he spoke the number. “And four, five… six?”

“Brilliant,” Kit beamed, pleased he was going along with her impromptu lesson. “I’ll sort of sing out what keys you have to press, okay?”

Harry looked at Kit, feeling self-conscious. “What if I don’t know the song?” he asked her. And what if I mess up and look like an idiot? he wondered to himself, assuming Kevin and Kit spent many nights cuddled up on the piano bench, Kevin tickling the ivories like a member of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, making Beethoven look like a novice. He hated him. 

Kit laughed. “I promise, you know it,” she assured him, his insecurities suddenly adorable to her. She pursed her lips, internally shouting you have a boyfriend at herself. 

“Okay, ready?” she asked him, beginning without waiting for an answer. “One six five four one… one one one six five four two…” She watched Harry clumsily tap on the keys, his brow furrowed with concentration as he searched and pecked, trying to remember which key was one and which one was six. Her knee bumped against his as she pressed on the pedals and he fumbled, missing one of the numbers she sang out. 

“Keep going,” she urged him, refraining from helping him by pressing the keys on her side of the piano. “Two six five four three,” she continued, singing the numbers out in the familiar tune. “Six six five four six,”

“Bells on bobtails ring!” Penny suddenly called out from the other side of the room. Harry looked up, startled anyone else was listening to his painstaking piano playing. But had he been facing the group, he would have noticed his mother and Kit’s mother giggling like schoolgirls to one another, whispering about the closeness and obvious attraction between their children. It was a fact they’d both been aware of since their children were young – especially Anne – and seeing them as adults, sitting close together on the piano bench and sharing giggles made their hearts warm. 

“One five four three one,” Kit told Harry, leaning closer to him and continuing to whisper the numbers to him as the rest of the room began drunkenly singing along to his piano playing. His face was dark crimson, though more to do with Kit’s close proximity to him and her breath against his ear than the dozen intoxicated people singing along to his feeble plucking. He exhaled, telling himself to only focus on the numbers Kit was whispering. 

“What fun it is to laugh and sing a sleighing song tonight!”

“Oh!” Harry suddenly belted out loudly, his outburst causing him to miss his notes. He looked at Kit for a moment, his grin resembling that of a child, seeming proud he knew the words to the popular Christmas carol. Surprised by his sudden solo, Kit lost her place with counting. Laughing loudly at Harry, she inched closer to him and placed her hands on the keys, knowing she would touch his fingers again but telling herself it was the only way to get the song back on track. 

“You messed me all up!” she told him, laughing as she scolded him, her fingertips brushing against his hand. She closed her eyes briefly, reminding herself once more that she was in a relationship. “Join in here,” she commanded. “Five… three, two…”

“You messed me all up, too,” he reminded her, though not speaking of the piano playing. He obediently followed Kit’s demands, pressing down on the keys with a bit more confidence behind him. He found he couldn’t sing along while playing, but knowing the tune of the song made it easier to know when Kit was going to speak the number. 

“… in a one horse, open sleigh!” 

As the song came to a close, Harry bashed his hands against the keys triumphantly, sliding his finger along the entirety of the keyboard and back again in a poor attempt at a glissando. Kit rolled her eyes at him, laughing as he gently manhandled her great-grandmother’s baby grand. 

“Okay, Piano Man,” she gently chastised. “You are a proper show off, aren’t you?” she teased as Harry bolted from the bench, bowing to his faithful audience.

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed, sitting back down on the bench beside Kit. She bumped her hip against him, scooting closer to the middle of the bench, placing her hands on the keys. Instinctively, her eyes closed as she pressed on the keys, her shoulders rising and falling in time with the music. He watched her, mesmerised. He’d seen and heard Kit play the piano many times growing up, but the simple tunes she played as a child didn’t hold a candle to the beautiful sounds she was creating. 

“Now who’s the show-off?” Harry murmured to Kit, unsure if she’d even heard him. She looked as though she was in a different world. But the small smirk that tickled against her lips told him otherwise. After a few moments, she trailed off, letting her hands fall from the keys as the instrument fell silent. 

“That was lovely,” Harry told Kit sincerely, “Might take me another lesson or two to sound that good,” he joked, realising he was hinting that she ought to give him more lessons.

“Oh, you were pretty close,” Kit teased back, shifting away from Harry and sitting sideways on the bench, crossing one leg under her. “I mean, not really, but… it seems like the polite thing to say,” she added cheekily, letting her leg swing gently against his. 

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, attempting to sound indignant. He chuckled, reciprocating Kit’s foot nudge, his stomach tumbling with elation at the light touches. “That was almost Mozart quality, you know that, right? You’ve just witnessed history in the making, and you can’t even take it seriously.” He clucked his tongue at Kit, tapping his foot against her shin once more. He wanted nothing more than to keep touching her, Kevin or no Kevin. He knew the touches and innocent flirtations would only make it more difficult for him to accept the fact that she had a boyfriend, but his infatuated heart was at the helm and his reasonable mind couldn’t take the wheel. 

“Oh, my apologies,” Kit quipped, beaming and not appearing apologetic at all. Having a teasing personality, she found it nice to be able to gentle rib Harry and have him able to take it and dish it back. Kevin didn’t have a very good sense of humour, and if Kit tried to tease him about something, he would react like a toddler and pout in his bedroom. For this reason – and his unpredictable temper – she opted to not tease him. It was exceedingly boring. 

“It was, obviously, even better than Mozart,” Kit continued with a roll of her eyes. “The way you single-handedly – or, rather… I suppose single-fingeredly,” she corrected, chuckling at her own pun, “plunked out that amazing rendition of the timeless classic was… momentous and… and… life changing. The most extraordinary thing I have ever witnessed in my life,” she added, punctuating her compliments with grandiose gestures. 

“Well, now… that’s a bit over the top, wouldn’t you say?” Harry told Kit with a smirk. “It’s okay if you tell a little white lie to appease my ridiculous ego, but you have to try to make it a bit more believable. Something to work on for next time,” he added, grinning at her. 

Kit let out a loud laugh, shoving Harry playfully. “You’re impossible,” she said to him, shaking her head at him and trying not to focus on how captivating his grin was. “Maybe next time, I’ll just have to tell you the whole truth instead.”

“I don’t think my delicate ego could handle that,” Harry replied, speaking of more than just his piano playing abilities. But next time… alright,” he added, hopeful that there would be a next time for the two of them. Perhaps by that point, Kit would have wised up and tossed her blowhard boyfriend to the curb. 

“You know, I…” he began before being interrupted by a loud laugh from one of the partygoers. He let out a quiet, impatient sigh, looking over his shoulder at the masses behind them. The room was too loud, too hot, too crowded, and he desperately wanted to be alone with Kit. He didn’t know if she would oblige, but he needed to find out and found himself asking her before he thought the question though. 

“Do you want to take a walk with me?” he wondered, a bashful red hue coating his cheeks as he voiced his request. As soon as the question was uttered, he wished he could take it back. He was being ridiculous. He was pining for a girl with a boyfriend, a girl he hadn’t seen in three years and a girl he likely wouldn’t see after the holidays. He hoped he would, of course, but despite their conversations about making plans, Harry suspected it wouldn’t amount to a thing. 

Kit looked up at Harry, her face painted with surprise before a small grin radiated across her face. She knew Kevin wouldn’t be happy if he found out she was going on a moonlit winter walk with Harry Styles, but Kevin wasn’t here. The thought nagged at the pit of her stomach but she forced the feeling aside – it wasn’t as though anything would happen. Even if she didn’t have a boyfriend, this was Harry. He didn’t look at Kit in any way but as a friend. And even that was indeterminate. 

But against her better judgment, she smiled at Harry and nodded. “Sure.”


	4. Four

The brisk December air rubbed against Kit’s bare knees as she stepped out of the house, but it wasn’t as chilly as she’d expected. As she fell into step beside Harry, she was aware her entire body was warm. Ignorantly, she believed it was caused by the contrast from the warm house, or the few drinks she’d had, and not the prospect of being alone with her handsome childhood crush. 

As they walked side-by-side down the driveway, the noise from the party inside dimmed, making way for the lull between Harry and Kit. She didn’t want to feel awkward by the silence, but quietly walking alongside Harry for reasons unknown to her was unnerving. Biting her tongue from asking him why he wanted to walk in the cold with her, and just her, she exhaled, wracking her brain for a light conversation topic. 

“Look!” she blurted out suddenly, her voice contrastingly loud against the hush. She pointed down the driveway, indicating to a tree stump across the narrow road. “Do you remember?” she wondered, not waiting for an answer before she bolted down the driveway and quickly crossed the street. 

Harry snickered to himself, watching Kit run down the driveway, cocktail tress blowing against her winter white legs and heavy gumboots hindering her ability to run fast. He was surprised Kit had agreed to walk with him, but his ideas ended there. He knew nothing could – or would – happen with her, and he found himself wishing he could be disrespectful to the boyfriend he’d never met and make a move on her. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t. Being a gentleman was a real kick in the nuts sometimes. 

“You didn’t even look both ways!” Harry called out to Kit, breaking into a jog to catch up with her. He hoped she wasn’t running to get away from him, but then reminded himself that they weren’t eight. “Didn’t you learn a thing in kindergarten?”

Kit hopped up onto the stump, spinning around to face Harry. “I learned how to be the King of the Castle!” she announced with a grin, triumphantly spreading her arms. “And you’re the Dirty Rascal,” she added tauntingly. 

Harry exhaled loudly, catching his breath as he stopped in front of the stump. “Only because you had a head start,” he told her, kicking at a piece of root protruding from the ground and knowing he’d have let her win a real race anyway. He gazed up at Kit, watching her toe her muddy boot against the wood before looking back at the house, trying to catch his bearings and recall the memory Kit so easily remembered. 

“Was this the treehouse?” he asked after a moment, suddenly remembering the derelict fort, dangerously balanced in the large tree and inciting warnings from all of the parents on the road. When the property owners had discovered the neighbourhood children were sneakily playing in the treehouse, they boarded it up and wrote letters to the newspaper editor, scolding the parents on their lack of control over their offspring. But a few boards and nails hadn’t stopped the rambunctious kids of Byley Road and though she would argue it to the death and blame her older brother, everyone knew the person who pried the first nail out of the moldy board was Kit. When the attempts to board up the treehouse didn’t work, Mr. and Mrs. Thorton did the only thing they could think of, and chopped down the large oak tree. 

“Ding, ding, ding!” Kit replied, her elbows tucked against her sides as she raised her fists and shook her hips in an odd celebratory dance. “Such a waste, isn’t it?” Kit pondered, spinning in a slow circle, arms spread. “If the great man took the great axe, and cut down the great tree, and let it fall into the great sea, what a splish splash that would be!” she recited, easily remembering the old nursery rhyme from grade school. 

Harry chuckled, watching the skinny free bird dance atop the stump. “At least it makes for a good stage now,” he determined, deciding to do what’d wanted to do since Kit bounded onto the stump, and stepped up beside her. The base of the tree trunk wasn’t overly large, and his stomach tumbled at their sudden close proximity. 

Kit laughed loudly at his comment, the decibel of her giggle more to do with his accompanying her on the stump and not his joke. “Better than the O2?” she wondered, continuing to precariously spin around on the stump. She was careful not to step too close to Harry, though wondered if he was a good dancer. 

“Of course,” answered Harry honestly, awkwardly clasping his hands behind his back as he kept his eyes on her. The O2 didn’t have Kit. 

“I think you’re – oh!” Kit interrupted herself as her foot slipped against the wood, causing her to stumble against Harry. Instinctively, he caught Kit by her elbow, keeping her from falling from the stump. As Kit regained her footing, Harry kept his hands on her arms, unable to let himself let her go. Their bodies were suddenly pressed against one another, and if he just dipped his head a bit, he could kiss her. Kevin or no Kevin, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more. 

Kit’s eyes were wide; partially due to the shock from her slip, but more to do with her closeness to Harry and the feeling of his grip on her arms. She watched his eyes dart between her own eyes and her lips, and as she heard his hitched breath, her eyes widened more as she came to the shocking realisation that he was about to kiss her. She stared at his lips, realising she wanted to kiss him, too. 

The revelation didn’t surprise her – she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Harry since she first started thinking about kissing boys. She knew she could kiss him. No one was around, and Kevin would never find out. But despite his flaws and lack of redeeming qualities, she was still committed to Kevin and knew if he was kissing childhood crushes under the bright December moon, she would be gutted. And while she couldn’t be sure, she was fairly certain Harry would beat himself up over kissing a taken girl. She couldn’t let him feel that way. 

“Thanks!” Kit told Harry after just a few moments passed, her voice overly enthusiastic as she forced herself to sound breezy and not think about what it would be like if she kept her mouth shut. She flashed Harry a toothy grin before disengaging herself from his grasp and jumping off the stump, as though not touching Harry would make all of her thoughts about kissing him disappear. As she took off running across the open field – no one in their neighbourhood believed in fences – she looked over her shoulder to Harry and called out, “hurry up, Dirty Rascal!”

Harry exhaled loudly as he watched Kit run across the field. He had been so close to finally kissing her, it took him a moment to come back down to reality. As she took off running from him, he felt small and defeated, and had to wonder what he was doing literally chasing after a girl who clearly only looked at him as a friend. He wondered if he should give up, go back inside and collect his mother, and stop thinking about the girl once and for all. But he knew that, try as he might, he would never be able to forget about her. 

With another sigh, Harry dutifully jumped off the stump and ran after Kit, catching up to her in just a few long strides. She laughed over her shoulder at him, slowing down as Harry fell into step beside her. She smiled at him, appearing sheepish and causing his heart to ache for her. 

“Kit, I…” Harry began, sticking his hands deep into his pockets to avoid grabbing hers. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to her, and wondered if there was anything that could be said to make the situation less awkward. 

“Oh, good!” Kit interrupted suddenly, not wanting Harry to say anything to her about the almost kiss that could have been. It was better to forget about it. She pointed as they walked past a cluster of trees, revealing a wooden swing set. “It’s still here!”

Harry eyed the swing set warily. It was weathered and decrepit, and looked as though it would crumble under any weight put on it. While Kit was slight, he didn’t think the swing set could handle even her weight. The smell of wet wood wafted from the swing set, caused by years of being in the elements without any protective treatment on the wood.

“You’re not going to sit on that, are you?” Harry asked as Kit approached the swings. She settled onto one of the swings, grinning at him as she ran her feet along the ground, obtaining momentum. 

“No, silly,” she told him, beginning to pump her legs. “I’m going to swing on it!”

“Jesus Christ.” Harry muttered, hearing the swing set creak under the sudden usage. He wrung his hands nervously as he watched Kit pump her thin legs under the swing. “So, you think because I save you from falling off the stump that I can save you from this thing?” he wondered, trying to remember the laws of motion and how far she would actually fall if the swing broke mid-motion.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Kit told Harry teasingly, tickled by his apprehension. “Come swing!”

Harry realised then that Kit could ask him to do anything, and he would. Gingerly, he settled himself on the seat but opted out of swinging. Instead, he rested his feet against the dirt ground, watching Kit fly through the air. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know?” he asked her, his laugh letting Kit know that while he was serious, and she was, it was endearing to him. 

“I know,” answered Kit matter-of-factly, looking down at Harry and laughing at the pained look on his face as he watched her. He looked like a nervous mother, waiting for the inevitable injury. His concern for her was so adorable, Kit found herself slowing down, letting her legs dangle motionless as the swing came to a slow stop. 

“You look as though you’re about to have a heart attack,” she teased him, stomping her feet against the ground to steady herself. “Don’t worry, Grandpa… I’ve stopped now,” she added, laughing again as the anxious scowl on his face segued into a look of relief. 

“Grandpa…” Harry echoed, his tone a mutter. He could think of a hundred things he would love for Kit to call him, and Grandpa was not one of them. He knew the comment wasn’t meant maliciously, so he let it roll off of his back, focusing on tracing figure eights with his foot against the dirt instead. The former silence between the two of them crept back into the atmosphere, neither one of them knowing what to say after their almost kiss. Quietly, Kit and Harry pushed their feet against the dirt, both of them intently focusing on the ground and internally begging the other to say something. 

“I was there, you know,” Kit said suddenly, glancing up at Harry and offering him an uncharacteristically shy smile, spinning the swing in a lazy circle. 

“Where?” asked Harry, her left field comment confusing him.

“The O2,” Kit replied, the shy smile still apparent on her face. “In April.”

“Oh?” asked Harry, his voice still coated with confusion. Small talk wasn’t what he’d expected. “Who did you see?”

Kit snickered, shaking her head incredulously. “You, you dolt!” she laughed, playfully kicking her leg in Harry’s direction. She smiled again, her shyness at the situation still apparent. “I was there for Zayn though, obviously…” she added jokingly, attempting to shake the awkward feeling she had. She wanted to tell him more, tell him how her heart swelled with pride when she saw him take the stage, how her eyes welled with tears when he sang Little Things and how she surprised herself when she wondered what it would be like to have him sing a song like that to her. But even though the concert was pre-Kevin and she was allowed to have her feelings, she couldn’t tell them to Harry. Not now. 

Hearing that Kit had been at one of the band’s concerts surprised Harry. Usually when his friends attended shows, he knew about it – and gave them the tickets. Kit had gone on her own accord, and spent her own money to see him. He felt flattered, but more so, he felt hopeful. 

“Why didn’t you let me know?” Harry asked her. “We could have hung out… You could have met Zayn,” he added, shadowing his feelings with a flimsy attempt at humour. 

Kit chuckled loudly, pushing her feet off the ground again. “I tried,” she laughed to Harry. “Timothy wouldn’t give me your number! He said I’d sell it. But… I might have, actually…” Kit determined after a moment, shrugging nonchalantly. “Could have made a proper killing doing that,” she added, giggling again. She looked down at Harry, hoping he knew she wasn’t going to sell his number now. 

“Don’t worry,” she added for good measure. “I probably won’t sell your number now.” She punctuated her comment with a bright grin, leaving it up to Harry to determine whether or not she was truthful. 

Harry beamed, pleased that Kit had attempted to see him, unsuccessful or not. “I trust you,” he promised Kit. “At least now you have it, and… if I don’t change it on you, we’ll probably be able to hang out,” he teased, keeping his tone light but his sentence having serious undertones. 

“Probably, huh…” Kit echoed, matching Harry’s smile. A deep-down nagging warned her that spending more time with Harry wouldn’t be the wisest of choices, but she ignored the thoughts. She could handle the situation… assuming it got to the point where it needed handling. 

“So… are we really going to hang out?” Kit wondered, wrinkling her nose at Harry as she looked down at him, her braid flying behind her as she pushed back and forth on the swing. “I mean, I want to, but… Why do you want to? I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m actually not that entertaining,” she added with a snicker. 

Harry furrowed his brow, his confusion from her comment distracting him from the desire to scold her for swinging so high on the creaky set. “What are you talking about?” he wondered, letting out a quiet scoff. “I think you’re quite entertaining, actually…” he told her slowly. “You’re the only person I know who made up a dance routine to the theme song from Jurassic Park,” he said endearingly, remembering the young girl in an Indiana Jones hat and tutu performing the choreographed dance, complete with Tyrannosaurus Rex screams. “And you always had very elaborate stories to tell,” he added with a chuckle. “Remember when you told your teacher that your mom hit Tim across the face with a piece of wood, but really he just walked into the fence? And the police had to come to your house? Everyone was very impressed that you caused the cops to show up,” Harry continued, smirking up at Kit. 

Kit echoed his snicker but shrugged dismissively. “Yeah, but that’s just kid stuff,” she told him, though surprised he remembered her fondness for creating choreographed dance routines – everyone remembered the cop story. “I’m pretty much a boring old homebody now,” she confessed to him, scowling at the uncool truth. “I don’t do the club scene. I don’t even really own makeup,” she added, as though that was a priority for Harry. 

“Well, that settles that, then,” Harry determined teasingly. “No makeup, no Harry,” he told her, reaching up and tapping her boot as she swung past him. “I expect my friends to follow very strict rules, you know,” he continued, wishing Kit would stop trying to talk herself out of spending time with him.

“Mm-hmm,” Kit hummed with a slight roll of her eyes. “Well… I suppose we’ll just have to see who’s right, and who’s wrong,” she said, still not believing their lives would find time for the other.

Exasperated, Harry stood up. “Christ, Kit… just stop… stop swinging,” he told her, reaching out and grabbing one of the rope handles. The swing slowed down, but swayed erratically to the side as he gripped just one half of the swing. He reached across and grabbed the other handle, slowing Kit down as her knees knocked against his stomach. 

Her eyes widened as Harry pulled her to a stop, his hands grasping the rope just above her own hands. She’d avoided his kiss once; she didn’t think she could do it again. “What are you doing?” she whispered to him, attempting to choke out a fake laugh but uttering a whimpering groan instead. 

“What are you doing?” countered Harry, his voice sounding unnecessarily harsh. He sighed quietly, giving the swing a light shake. “Why do you keep thinking I don’t want to see you… or wouldn’t want to hang out with you?” he asked her, his tone now sounding more disappointed than harsh. “Do you think we’re not friends?”

“I… well, no…” Kit stammered, Harry’s comment surprising her. “Well, I mean, I guess… yeah, I do. But, it’s just… Harry, you’re Tim’s friend. You’ve always been Tim’s friend. Not mine,” she told him, her final sentence coming out so quietly, she didn’t think Harry would have even heard her. 

Harry chuckled softly, running his closed fist up and down the rope. “So… I’m not your friend?” he questioned, ducking his head slightly to look into Kit’s eyes. He understood what she meant – he had always been Tim’s friend first – but hearing her say he wasn’t her friend tugged on his heartstrings. “Are we mortal enemies now? Bat-Man and Joker? If that’s the case… I get to be Bat-Man,” he added as Kit glanced up and met his eyes, smiling sheepishly. 

“You know what I mean,” Kit told Harry with a sigh, nudging his leg gently with her foot. She looked down at her foot as she bumped against Harry, wanting to tell him that she simply wasn’t good enough to spend time with him, but she knew he would argue with her. It was comforting, in a way, to know exactly how Harry would react. 

“I guess I don’t…” countered Harry, giving the swing another light shake. He let his hand drop from the rope, letting his finger graze gently against Kit’s cheek as though he was programmed to do so and had no control over his actions. Her eyes were round as saucers again as Harry’s caressed her cold cheek, his finger trailing up to her hairline as he tucked a flyaway behind her ear. 

“We’re friends… right?” Harry asked, knowing he wouldn’t ever be satisfied with simply being Kit’s friend, but after reconnecting with her after years gone by, he wasn’t going to lose touch with her again. If friends were all she could be, friends is what he would be. 

“Yeah… we are,” Kit determined after a moment, her voice a whisper as Harry’s touch radiated through to her core. She pushed backwards on the swing, locking her knees and keeping her feet planted against the dirt. In this position, she could see straight into Harry’s eyes. She swallowed hard, remembering their moment on the tree stump and wondering if she could be simply friends with this boy. She knew she had no choice, but she found herself curious as to what would happen if she didn’t have a boyfriend.


	5. Five

Monday, December 30, 2013

**A friend of mine is having a New Year’s Eve party. Would you like to come?**

The text message arrived out of the blue on the day before New Year’s Eve. The holidays had come and gone without a hitch, and Kit had ventured back down to London as soon as the festivities wrapped up, eager to get back to Kevin and push the thoughts of Harry out of her mind – thoughts that made her feel incredibly guilty and shameful, thoughts that encompassed her mind when she was trying to sleep at night, thoughts that she knew she couldn’t ever act on, but wanted to, desperately so. Her only solace was continuing to believe they wouldn’t be spending time together, despite Harry’s insistence that they were friends, and they would. She couldn’t see it happening, and hoped it wouldn’t take long to forget about him. But when all she saw when she closed her eyes was his bright, dimpled grin and piercing green eyes, she knew forgetting about Harry would be a challenge.

**I know it’s short notice,** he continued, sending another text when Kit didn’t answer right away. **But it would be lovely to see you.**

Kit read the messages several times, rolling onto her back and propping her feet against the headboard of her bed. In typical girl fashion, she carefully went over each word, scrutinizing his message until she had it memorized forward and backward. She almost had herself convinced that he was asking her on a date when a third message came through.

**Also, bring Kevin. I’d really like to meet him.**

Kit furrowed her brow, studying the final message intently. “Well… that’s weird,” she stated out loud. After Tim’s tirade about Kevin, and Kit and Harry’s moonlight moment, she didn’t think there was anything in the world that could make Harry want to meet Kevin. 

“What is?” asked Kit’s roommate, Charlotte, stopping short in front of Kit’s opened bedroom door on her way from the washroom. She leaned against the doorjamb, crossing her arms in front of her as Kit sprawled across her bed, holding her phone in Charlotte’s direction.

“Harry’s asking me and Kevin to some New Year’s party,” Kit informed Charlotte, her lip upturned in an incredulous smirk. Charlotte, being not only Kit’s roommate but her closest friend, had been informed of the Christmas party and the feelings Kit was attempting to push away. Charlotte was one of the few people who actually liked Kevin – his surly attitude and pompous persona matched hers – and immediately took his side regarding Kit’s feelings, which wasn’t unusual. Charlotte and Kevin had an odd bond – a bond that had a tendency to make Kit more than a little uncomfortable, after the bond he shared with her last roommate.

“That’s a stupid idea,” Charlotte replied, her voice caked with disgust. “He’s probably just asking to start something.”

“Harry?” Kit asked, scoffing. “I don’t think he’d ever even hurt a fly,” she commented, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin up on her elbows. “I think he might just… I don’t know… want to meet Kevin?” She looked at Charlotte, shrugging her shoulders. “But… it is… weird…” she repeated.

“This guy almost kissed you… and caressed your cheek, for Pete’s sake… and now he wants to meet your boyfriend?” Charlotte shook her head. “He just wants to size up his competition, Kit. See if he’s got a chance,” she added, rolling her eyes at the thought of anyone having a chance to oust Kevin. “You’re a fool if you go to this party,” she advised Kit, shaking her head once more before carrying on down the hallway.

Kit exhaled loudly, letting her head drop against the bed. She didn’t think Charlotte was right, but she still felt a twinge of apprehension at the thought of attending the party. But stronger yet, she guiltily felt excited at the thought of seeing Harry again. She didn’t even consider whether Kevin would want to join her as she tapped out her reply.

**That sounds like loads of fun! Thanks for thinking of me : ) Where’s it at?**

She stared at the word ‘me’ for what seemed like hours, debating on whether it was appropriate. Harry had mentioned Kevin as well… should she do the same? Reciting the two sentences in her head repeatedly, she reluctantly changed the word ‘me’ to ‘us’. She was part of an ‘us’. The use of the word shouldn’t have felt like such a hardship to her. Still, as she sent the revised message, she wished she’d used the first draft.

_Finally,_ Harry thought to himself as his phone signaled a new text message. He beamed when Kit said she could make it, but he could have done without Kevin’s RSVP as well. He’d only extended the invitation to him to ensure Kit would attend. He didn’t want Kevin anywhere near him, and hoped he would find something else to do that night. 

“Yay? Or nay?”

Harry looked across the room where his friend Ed was stretched out on the other sofa. He shrugged at Ed, looking down at the phone again.

“I mean… she said yes,” Harry told him. “But… it sounds like they’ll both be coming.”

Ed let out a chuckle. “What did you think would happen?” he asked Harry. “She’d come alone? Come on…” he said, scoffing gently. “Plus, you’ve got what’s her face Kardashian coming anyway, so how many irons you plan on sticking in this fire?”

“Jenner,” Harry corrected with an automatic roll of his eyes. Once he was back in London after the holidays, and feeling unbearably lonely, he sent the text to the boring, tiresome girl in an attempt to forget about Kit. It was a completely futile effort, but he tried. Lord, was he trying.

“Right… that’s the name she uses to make reservations, isn’t it?” Ed laughed, knowing full well it wasn’t. “But seriously… Kendall’s hot and more than ready to give it to you, so just get on that and forget all about this other one. Seriously,” he added for good measure.

Harry sighed. For a guy who could write such romantic songs, Ed certainly had an off-color manner of speaking. Despite his profane tone, however, Harry knew his friend was right. Kit had a boyfriend – albeit a terrible boyfriend, but a boyfriend nonetheless. Harry had invited another girl to come to the party with him. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved if he focused all of his attention on Kit. 

“Suppose you’re right,” Harry admitted with another sigh. “It’s just pretty crummy when someone cool like Kit is with some wanker like him.”

“You don’t even know the bugger,” Ed laughed. “He might be just as cool.”

Harry let out a loud laugh. “He messed around on her, so I can’t really see him being very cool,” Harry reminded Ed, having reiterated everything Tim had said to Ed. He found himself getting angrier with the man he’d never met as he filled his friend in on everything he learned about Kit’s partner, and wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep his feelings in check when face-to-face with Kevin. He knew he had no choice, but to say it would be a test would be an understatement. 

“Yeah, well…” Ed trailed off, offering Harry a shrug. He didn’t have a defence as to why Kevin would cheat on Kit, but it didn’t mean it was kosher for Harry to entertain the idea of attempting to woo her away from her boyfriend. “Just keep your pants on,” Ed advised Harry. “You don’t need this tosser finding out you want to bang his girlfriend and take some story to the Sun.”

“I know, I know,” he answered, sighing exasperatedly. He’d heard it all before – don’t do anything in public you don’t want anyone to see, don’t give anyone any ammunition to call the press, don’t be a fool, and be aware of your actions at all times. It was stressful and onerous, but ultimately, he loved his job and knew the constant self-awareness was just something he had to deal with to do what he loved. Any punches he would want to lay across Kevin’s face would have to be wishful thinking only. 

~*~*~*~

“So…” Kit began, intently focusing on the plate perched on her lap and not looking up at Kevin. She had been rehearsing how to bring up Harry’s invite to Kevin all evening but found it was difficult to sound completely nonchalant and yet insistent at the same time. She wanted to go, but she didn’t want Kevin to know just how badly. If he knew how much she wanted to see Harry, he would refuse to go and, even worse, forbid Kit from going as well. She couldn’t have that happen – she needed to see Harry. 

“Are you eating your spring roll?” Kevin interrupted, leaning forward and tapping his fork against Kit’s plate. She was planning on it – spring rolls were her favourite part of Chinese takeaway, and she always saved the best for last. But by sharing an order with Kevin, she seldom got to eat her spring rolls. She’d suggested time and time again that they ought to order extra spring rolls, but thrifty Kevin would refuse, saying two was enough for the two of them. But it never was. 

“Go ahead,” Kit told Kevin, smothering her sigh and reminding herself that she also liked cashew chicken, and Kevin hated it. She could fill up on that and he could enjoy her spring roll. It would be okay. 

“Anyway…” Kit began again, watching Kevin ruin her spring roll by dousing it in soya sauce. “Have you thought of what you’d like to do tomorrow night? New Years,” she added unnecessarily. She stressed to herself to tread lightly on the subject, and not let Kevin pick up that she was eager to spend the evening with Harry. 

Kevin offered Kit a shrug, his attention focused more on the television set than his girlfriend. “Get liquored up somewhere, anyway,” he told her, his lips smacking together and revealing the half-chewed spring roll. “Haven’t really heard of anyone having a ripper, but I guess we can get out to some club or something,” he added, not sounding overly thrilled at the idea.

“Rather just stay here and get you all pissed up, yeah?” he told Kit suggestively, raising his eyebrows with a grin as he nudged her foot with his own. 

Kit forced herself to smile back, letting out a giggle that she hoped sounded sincere. Sex with Kevin was never something she wanted to do. She’d lost her virginity to him only months prior, and only because he’d been so insistent on her showing him how much she loved him. He’d seemed quite hurt when she didn’t want to sleep with him, so feeling bad for hurting his feelings, she did. She knew she didn’t love him, but she hadn’t wanted to lose him. She still didn’t want to lose him – she didn’t want to be alone. 

“Well… we could do that…” Kit agreed, hoping she sounded as suggestive as Kevin had. “But… well, I got an invite from one of Tim’s friends today. Might as well get me pissed up on someone else’s booze, right?” she asked him, mimicking his foot nudge. 

Kevin furrowed his brow. “Tim’s friend?” he repeated, his confusion understandable. “That sounds… absolutely revolting,” he told Kit with a laugh. “Is your lovely brother going to be there, too?” he wondered. “I can’t believe you’d actually want me to go to a party with your brother, knowing how badly he treats me,” Kevin added, his voice a cocktail of hurt and arrogance. 

Kit scoffed, the sound coming out louder than she’d intended. “God, no,” she assured Kevin. “He’s not going to be there. Like I would actually want to spend my night with that idiot, anyway,” she lied. She let the statement hang in the air for a moment while she thoughtfully chewed her food. 

“I mean… it’s something to do,” she added after a few beats, punctuating her statement with an uncaring shrug. “It’s at Alexa Chung’s house…” she told Kevin, pushing her food around on her plate and silently counting to five before looking up at him for his reaction. Kevin wasn’t a person who fawned over celebrities – he thought fame was undeserved, and boasted that he easily could be an actor or a musician if he was just discovered at a coffee shop like the rest of them were – but Kit saw his eyebrows raise slightly at the mention of the British model-turned-TV-host’s name. 

“How does your fucking idiot brother have friends who know Alexa Chung?” Kevin asked, rolling his eyes. As soon as his question was uttered, he answered it himself. “Oh… his friend’s that poof in that gay ass band, isn’t he?”

Internally, Kit screamed in frustration but externally, she simply nodded. She hated the way he so brazenly used the demeaning homosexual terms, and as much as she wanted to defend Harry, she knew it was always easier to agree with Kevin than to start an argument that would begin with “trust me, I know he’s not gay”.

“Probably gonna be a pretty big waste of time,” Kevin told Kit, digging his toes into the tops of his socks and tugging them off, kicking them under the coffee table. It was a habit of his that annoyed her, but she found herself more irritated than usual at his disrobing. For a moment, she found herself wondering if Harry would annoyingly kick off his socks, or steal her food. She wondered if she would care. 

“But, I mean… I suppose…” he added after a moment, shrugging again and not appearing pleased with agreeing to Kit’s suggestion. 

Kit’s eyes widened for a moment, stunned at Kevin’s response. She had been prepared to lay it on thicker and convince him that the New Year’s party was a good idea, but he’d agreed so quickly, she hadn’t had to utter any of the lines she diligently rehearsed in her bathroom mirror. It was a relief, but almost disappointing. 

“Yeah?” she asked for clarification, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling too big. But the thought of seeing Harry again in just a day made it difficult not to convey her excitement on her face. “We can dress up,” she added, though more for Kevin than herself. Despite his lack of work ethic and red-balanced bank account, Kevin enjoyed the finer things in life and was always looking for an excuse to wear a crisp, tailored suit and tie. 

“Obviously… You’ll be sure to comb your hair as well,” Kevin advised her, always being sure to make a comment on Kit’s appearance. He reached over and tugged on a lock of Kit’s hair. “Maybe you ought to try and get in to see someone, see if they can make something happen with this before tomorrow. You’ll feel better if you look better, you know,” he added, his tone as matter-of-fact as though he was telling her to take medicine or go to bed early. 

“I will,” Kit promised Kevin, though she didn’t know how she would manage to pay for a last minute hair salon trip the day before New Year’s Eve. Still, she would try. Kevin was probably right – she would easily stand out in a house party filled with beautiful celebrities and models with or without styled hair, but might feel a bit like she belonged if she looked close to the part. 

~*~*~*~  
Tuesday, December 31, 2013

The door to the hotel room opened before Harry had even stepped off the elevator. A pretty brunette stuck her head out the door and peeked around the jamb, smiling brightly when she saw Harry sauntering down the hall towards her room. He smiled back at her, albeit a bit abashedly. He didn’t know her well – they met through friends and went on one dinner date the month prior. He wondered what she thought about his sporadic invitation, as it clearly came right out of left field. He supposed she was fine with it, considering she’d accepted, but he thought it was fair to assume her mother had more to do with that than Kendall herself. 

“Hello,” Harry called out to her as he approached the open door. “You look lovely,” he told her sincerely. Dull as she was, Kendall was a gorgeous girl and had a great sense of style. She was a great piece of arm candy, and if that was something Harry was into, they would have Britney and Justin beat for cutest celebrity couple of all time. But hearing her talk about the calorie count in Baked Lays, or how she can’t believe it’s only Tuesday when it totally feels like it should be Thursday, or how she can do the crow pose now in yoga was enough to make Harry want to pull his ears off and shove them in her mouth in an attempt to muzzle her. 

It was a mean thought, and he was glad Kendall couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It wasn’t her fault she’d been coddled and swooned over her entire life, and had no idea that most people didn’t care about her opinion on The Bachelor. Still, he found himself hoping he could introduce her to someone equally as boring and escape her for the evening. He briefly wondered if he and Kit would be able to re-enact their moonlit walk from the week before, but knew as long as Kevin and Kendall were around, the most he could do with Kit would be fantasize about it. 

“Thank you!” Kendall chirped happily, stepping into the room and gesturing for Harry to join her. “You look great yourself!” she told him, poking through an open suitcase on the bed. “I’m almost ready,” she promised him, tossing articles of clothes out of the suitcase and across the bed. 

“Take your time,” Harry assured her, leaning against the wall as he watched Kendall toss thousands of dollars’ worth of clothing callously from her suitcase. He found it gross that she had such a blatant disregard for the cost of the clothing, but growing up unbearably wealthy, things like that didn’t matter to her. If she wrecked a four thousand dollar jacket, she would simply purchase a new one. It was a common occurrence in Los Angeles, but he wondered how Kit would react to Kendall’s throw-away lifestyle. 

“Okay, ready!” Kendall announced breathlessly, tugging a jacket on over her form-fitting black dress. She offered Harry a bright smile, and he immediately felt guilty that he’d invited her to come out when he couldn’t be less interested in her. He hoped he could reiterate to her that it wasn’t a romantic date, and thought she might already know and have the same platonic feelings. But as she smiled at him again, Harry knew friendship was the last thing on her mind. If he wasn’t careful, things could get messy. 

Harry smiled back, opening the door for Kendall and following her out of the hotel room. She chirped happily to him as they boarded the elevator, chattering about a television show Harry didn’t care about. He tried to keep his attention on Kendall, but his mind kept wandering to thoughts of Kit. She hadn’t confirmed she was coming, and he hadn’t wanted to be a bother and ask, but he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to see her. 

Well… maybe there was one more thing he wanted…


	6. Six

New Year’s Eve, 2013

 

“I’m quite nervous,” Kit confessed to Kevin, sounding sheepish as they walked down the sidewalk after getting off the tube, his feet walking a couple of steps in front of Kit. They rarely walked side-by-side. “Do I look alright?” she asked him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She hadn’t been able to make a salon appointment, but Charlotte had helped her with an up-do that kept most of Kit’s unmanageable hair tethered. She was happy with how it turned out, but wanted Kevin’s approval as well.

 

Kevin exhaled loudly, holding his hand up to shush Kit, indicating that he was on the phone. She whispered an apology to him, her head drooping slightly as he kept his phone pressed against his ear. After a moment, he chuckled to himself, dropping his phone back into his pocket and making no motion to mention any details of the phone call to Kit.

 

“Who was that?” she questioned hesitantly after a few silent moments had passed between them. Kevin was in a surly mood and Kit didn’t want to upset him more, but her curiosity always got the best of her.

 

Kevin sighed again, sounding exasperated by Kit’s question. “Davey,” he answered. A few more moments passed before he continued. “His parents are having people at theirs later, so we’ll go there in a few.”

 

Kit’s jaw visibly dropped, and she was relieved Kevin was walking in front of her. “But… I thought we were going to be at this one for the night…” she said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She didn’t know many of Kevin’s friends, but she’d met Davey a time or two. He was even older than Kevin and still lived at home with his parents. According to Kevin, Davey still received an allowance – the envy in Kevin’s voice when he told Kit the story was widely apparent. 

 

Kevin scoffed and Kit could see the back of his head shake. “We’re not going to do everything you want to do all of the time, Kit,” he reminded her, as though she always got her way. In reality, Alexa’s party was one of the only things they’d done that she wanted to do since the inception of their relationship. “We’ll go round your friends for a bit, and then we’ll go see my friends. It’s not fair to expect me to be around people I don’t know all night long, you know,” he added, his voice sour. 

 

“You’re right,” Kit answered automatically. She supposed he had a point – she rarely spent time with Kevin’s friends, but when she did, she hated it because she didn’t know them and they didn’t include her. She hadn’t thought about Kevin’s feelings about being in a similar predicament and not knowing a single person in the house they were about the step foot into. No wonder he was in such a mood – he abhorred when Kit didn’t consider his feelings.

 

“We won’t have to stay long,” she reluctantly added as they stopped in front of the house bearing the number Harry had texted her. A short, brick fence separated the terraced town house from the sidewalk, and a wrought-iron gate provided an entrance to the yard. She hesitated, feeling intrusive as she was faced with the task of opening the gate. With another exasperated sigh at Kit’s hesitation, Kevin thrust his arm between Kit and the gate and tugged on the handle. The gate swung open and he walked into the yard ahead of Kit, climbing the stairs to the front door.

 

Kit scrambled to catch up with Kevin, darting up the stairs and leaning on the doorbell before he could. She wanted to say something to him, to remind him to be well-behaved and polite, but feared his response. Keeping mum, she silently hoped he wouldn’t be a reckless jerk in a stranger’s home.

 

The door flew open moments later, and suddenly Kit and Kevin were facing Alexa Chung. Kit didn’t think she would be star-struck by anyone at the party – arguably the most famous guest was her childhood friend – but being face-to-face with a woman Kit grew up seeing on television and in magazines was a bit of a shock, though it was expected.  

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Kit’s stomach fell. Did Harry forget to tell the host of the party that he invited two lowbrow crashers?

“Uhm… I’m Kit?” Kit told Alexa, her voice rising questioningly and her face feeling hot. Mortified, she wanted to turn and run down the street. “Harry’s friend? He said…”

 

“Oh!” Alexa interrupted, beaming at Kit and holding the door open further. “Of course! Come in, please,” she instructed, gesturing for Kit and Kevin to follow her inside. Relieved – and a bit guilty that her immediate thought was that Harry forgot about her – Kit stepped in behind Alexa, with Kevin trailing after her.

 

“This is Kevin,” Kit quickly informed Alexa, not wanting to hurt Kevin’s feelings by forgetting to introduce him. Kevin gave Alexa one of his best, most charming smiles and offered a hand to her.

 

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you,” Kevin told Alexa, his voice dripping with charisma. Kit pursed her lips together. Kevin could turn it on like a faucet, and could easily make people like him. Their appetite for him quickly dissipated as they got to know him, but Kit often wondered why he couldn’t be charming and enchanting all the time, or at least to her. 

 

“You as well,” Alexa answered pleasantly as she shook Kevin’s extended hand. Kit watched the two of them, attempting to determine if their hands were joined for longer than cordially necessary. Of course, they were. Kevin was a flirt and Alexa was pretty. It was to be expected.

 

In the room just off the entry hall, Harry sat on the sofa in front of the bay window, next to Kendall as he impatiently waited for Alexa to bring the guests into the reception room. He struggled to hear the words spoken at the front door, but the conversation in the room proved too loud for him to eavesdrop. He shifted his position on the couch, fighting the urge to duck into the entry hall to see who had arrived, when Alexa stepped back into the reception room, Kit and a tall, striking man following behind her.

 

Seeing Kit caused Harry’s stomach to flip-flop, and for a moment, he completely forgot about the girl sitting to his right. Her hair was piled on top of her head, pulled away from her eyes and making her look older. Her outfit wasn’t quite as miraculous as the one she’d worn for the Christmas party, but the short, floral patterned A-line was fun, bold and a bit on the childish side… just like Kit. He stood up, immediately catching Kit’s eyes and being unable to resist beaming at her. She matched his smile, though she seemed a bit on edge as he took a few steps towards her.

 

“Hi, Kit-Kat,” he murmured to her, about to pull Kit into a hug when she thrust her hand towards him. Momentarily taken aback, he gave her a dumbfounded look. Only days prior, she’d shamelessly hugged him in the pub without a moment’s hesitation. Handshaking was not in her repertoire. It took Harry a few beats to realise Kit wouldn’t – or couldn’t – hug him with Kevin standing right behind her.

 

Harry took Kit’s hand in his own, feeling pins and needles the moment they touched. He smirked at her, gently tugging her closer to him and snaking his free arm around Kit’s waist. He didn’t want to disrespect Kevin, but if Harry wanted to hug his long-time friend, he was going to – though he tried not to focus on Kevin’s towering height and large, defined arms.

 

“Now, what are you going and shaking my hand for?” Harry said quietly into Kit’s ear, grinning as he felt her other arm timidly encircle his body. Feeling a gaze on him, Harry looked up and met Kevin’s eyes and a look that could kill. Not wanting to start anything with the man he’d never met, Harry pressed his lips together before grudgingly pulling away from Kit.

 

“Cause…” Kit managed to whisper back before Harry pulled away from her. She kept her hand enclosed around his for a moment longer before letting her hand drop to her side. The handshake was the last thing she wanted to do with Harry, but she knew Kevin would be angry with her if she initiated a hug. She was happy Harry saw through her façade, but she was more than a little worried about what Kevin’s reaction would be. She knew Kevin was never going to like Harry and judged him before speaking a single word to him, but the short-lived hug wouldn’t make it any better. 

 

Feeling Kit’s apprehension from their embrace, Harry stepped away from her and turned his attention to Kevin. “Hi, I’m Harry,” he greeted, instructing himself to maintain eye contact with the behemoth of a man and not to appear intimidated as he extended his hand.

 

“Yeah,” Kevin answered with a snicker, ignoring Harry’s hand. Kit’s eyes widened at his audacious rudeness, but it wasn’t a complete surprise. While Kevin could turn on the charm for girls like Alexa, guys like Harry would not be on the receiving end of a similar greeting.

 

_Jesus Christ_ , Harry thought to himself, but he made sure his reaction was not apparent on his face. He was a media trained professional; he could diffuse any situation that got off on the wrong foot. He _really_ wasn’t a fan of this guy, but he couldn’t let it show. He turned on his heel, his extended hand turning into a gesture to the rest of the room.

 

“This is… Kendall and Ed… Nick, Pixie… And, of course, you’ve met our lovely hostess, Alexa,” Harry introduced, appearing completely unfazed by Kevin. “Everybody, this is one of my oldest friends in the world, Kit, and her boyfriend, Kevin.” He gestured to the couch perpendicular from the one he’d been sitting on. “Please, sit,” he instructed, clasping his hands behind his back. “What can we get you to drink?” he asked, insinuating that he and Alexa would share in the hosting duties for the moment.

 

“Scotch. Neat.” Kevin answered, his voice tight as he crossed the room to sit. Kit rolled her eyes before blinking several times in an attempt to hide her cheeky reaction. Kevin didn’t even like scotch, but he was under the impression that by drinking it, he appeared classy and cool. Kit knew it would take more than a drink order to make the room think he was classy or cool, but obediently, she kept her mouth shut.

 

“I’ll just have water, thank you,” Kit said to Alexa, offering her a smile that was a mixture of appreciation and apologetic. If Kevin was going to start in on the scotch, Kit knew she would be in charge of taking care of him before the night was over. It was easier to reason with a drunk man if she wasn’t a pissed up mess herself.

 

“Sure...” Alexa answered, her tone of voice telling Kit she was unconvinced that Kit didn’t want to partake in the New Year’s festivities. “We’ll be right back,” she promised, disappearing into the adjoining kitchen with Harry hot on her heels.

 

“Good lord,” Alexa immediately hissed as the door closed behind him. “Is he like the fucking Ice Princess or some shit? What’s his deal, anyway?”

 

Harry held his finger up to his lips, unnecessarily telling Alexa to keep her voice to a whisper. “I don’t know,” Harry answered, opening the fridge and grabbing out a bottle of water. “He gave me a pretty scary look when I was hugging Kit, anyway,” he told Alexa, tossing the bottle from one hand to the other as Alexa selected a bottle of scotch from the credenza.

 

“Yeah, I sort of thought he was going to kill you,” Alexa said, smothering a giggle. “He kept a pretty long grip on my hand there when they first came in. Felt bad, I didn’t want her thinking I’m going to snatch up her boyfriend, you know? I mean, she can have him,” added Alexa with a roll of her eyes.

 

Harry sighed. “I don’t even know why she wants him,” he answered dejectedly. He knew he had to keep his feelings in check around Kevin, but behind closed doors with one of his closest friends, he didn’t have to hide how he felt.

 

Alexa twisted the cap off the bottle. “Harry, why’d you even invite her here?” she questioned. “You’re not going to be able to make anything happen with her. You’re making yourself crazy, and you also brought Kendall… who seems nice,” she added with a shrug. “I know you’re smitten and all, and I’m sorry, but… Do you even really know her anymore? It’s been years…”

 

Harry rested his hands against the counter and leaned his head back, uttering another sigh. “I know,” he admitted, Alexa saying the same thing Harry had been thinking since he’d seen Kit at the pub. It _had_ been years, and they didn’t have a romantic foundation from the past to continue to build upon. And yet, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

 

“I just… really like her,” he confessed with a bashful smile. “I know it’s stupid… she’s with him, and…” He shrugged again. “She’s just the best person I know,” he told Alexa. “She doesn’t care what people think about her. She’s cheeky and funny… She’s got the cutest giggle I’ve ever heard. She’s _real_. I can’t see myself with someone like _Kendall_ ,” he added, his voice dropping even lower as he mentioned his date’s name. “She’s so boring, Lex. Of course, she’s nice but…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

 

Alexa was quiet, twirling the open bottle of scotch against the counter. “Then why… Oh, shit, this is the good stuff. Fuck that,” she said, recapping the scotch. “Then why did you invite Kendall?” Alexa continued, putting the bottle back in the cupboard and rifling through until she found a bottle of supermarket scotch.

 

“I… I mean…” Harry shrugged again, his head dropping. “It’s New Year’s. Better than nothing, right?”

 

Alexa exhaled, rolling her eyes. “Word of advice… Don’t say that to Kendall,” she told him, smiling sympathetically at her friend as she picked up the glass of scotch and turned to head back to the reception room.

 

“No shit,” Harry mumbled to himself, following Alexa. Kit and Kendall were sitting diagonally from one another, pleasantly conversing. The sight of the two girls chatting made him uneasy, though he didn’t know why. Nothing had happened with Kit, but even if it had, Kendall was a friend – barely – and nothing more. But as he walked towards the couch, he realised Kendall thought things differently.

 

“So, you guys are… together?” Harry heard Kit ask. He stopped short, pretending to be enthralled with the trim surrounding the door to the kitchen as he strained to hear Kendall’s response.

 

“I mean, yeah!” Kendall chirped, her words and voice concurrently irritating Harry through to his core. “We’ve gone out a couple of times, and he’s just wonderful!”

 

“Yeah…” Kit agreed slowly, catching Harry’s eyes across the room. She gazed at him, silently asking him _why her_ , even though she knew it made sense. Kendall was a gorgeous model, a reality TV star and a massive celebrity. Someone like Harry _had_ to date someone like Kendall. He couldn’t date the bug-eyed, scrawny college student from Cheshire. Celebrities dated celebrities; it was as simple as that.

 

“Here’s your water,” Harry said to Kit, reaching across the coffee table to hand her the bottle. He decided to pretend he hadn’t heard what Kendall had said. He would catch Kit alone later; he could explain the situation then. He needed Kit to know that he wasn’t about to cheat on Kendall on that tree stump under the moon – the thought of her thinking he was just like Kevin made him sick to his stomach.

 

“Thank you,” Kit replied, watching as Harry sat on the couch beside Kendall and wishing he was sitting beside her instead. “So, modelling… That must be a lot of fun,” Kit continued, though it didn’t sound fun to her at all.

 

“It’s amazing,” Kendall told her excitedly. “I mean, I get paid for playing dress-up and wearing incredible makeup! What girl wouldn’t want that, right?”

 

Kevin snorted. “This one, anyway,” he told her, jerking a thumb in Kit’s direction. “Getting her even to comb her hair is like pulling teeth. You’d think she’s a toddler, yeah,” he added, taking a sip of his scotch. “Macallan,” he determined incorrectly, examining the glass haughtily.

 

Hearing Kevin mock his girlfriend in front of an audience made Harry’s blood boil, and seeing Kit meekly sit beside her boyfriend, head down and appearing ashamed made his heart yearn for her. He didn’t like rudeness in any form, but when it was directed at the girl he was desperately sweet on, he didn’t think he could be any angrier.

 

He watched Kit, waiting hopefully for her rebuttal. The Kit he knew wouldn’t allow someone to speak to her like that, and she would have hardly let him utter the insult before retaliating with a put-down of her own. But this Kit kept her head down, a shade of red coating her cheeks as she uncomfortably picked at the label on her water bottle. The sight of the shamed little girl made Harry want to cry for her.

 

“Ahh, grooming’s overrated, isn’t it, Kit-Kat?” asked Harry after an uncomfortable pause, offering her a comforting smile as he repeated the words he said to her at the pub. She looked up at him and mimicked his smile, though hers didn’t reach her eyes. It took every ounce of his self-control to not jump across the couch and wrap Kit in his arms.  

 

“She’s not a candy bar, mate,” Kevin told Harry, the word ‘mate’ used incredibly loosely. “She really doesn’t like that nickname.”

 

It wasn’t true. Kit didn’t mind the nickname; it was Kevin who didn’t like it. He tried unsuccessfully to get her family to quit calling her Kit-Kat, and even went so far as to text Timothy from Kit’s phone, demanding he stop. Tim knew it wasn’t Kit asking, and began using Kit-Kat exclusively in Kevin’s presence. Once Harry caught wind of the truth, it could be guaranteed he would do the same.

 

“Alright,” Harry replied tightly, the air in the room suddenly thick with tension. “I’m sorry, Kit,” he added, biting his tongue from adding ‘that your boyfriend is an worthless piece of shit’.

 

“It’s fine,” Kit assured him, casually running her fingers along her cheeks in an attempt to make the hotness disappear. She had never been more humiliated in her life. It wasn’t unusual for Kevin to make comments about Kit’s appearance – she’d come to get used to it, and to even expect it – but to do so in front of Harry, while Harry was with one of the prettiest girls Kit had ever seen, made Kit feel about two inches tall and as ugly as a troll.

 

“It could have been worse!” Kendall spoke up, seeming to try to break up the tension. “He could call you, like… Chunky or something! I mean, not that you are!” she quickly corrected, causing Kit to let out a quiet chuckle. Being even skinnier than Kendall, Kit knew chunky was not a word that would be used to describe her.

 

“I once had a lad call me Smartie,” Alexa added, picking up on what Kendall was doing and trying to get the room to lighten up and laugh.

 

“No, you didn’t,” Ed shot back teasingly, causing Alexa to fish an ice cube out of her drink and toss it in his direction.

 

A few more laughs erupted from around the room, and while the atmosphere began to segue back into party mode, it would take more than a few jokes about candy bars for Harry to relax. He was still worked up over Kevin’s comments, made evident by his clenched fist, and he wished he could think of a way to get Kit alone and shake some sense into her… and kiss her. Kevin or no Kevin, Harry suddenly determined that he was going to kiss Kit tonight.

 

~*~*~*~

 

As the night continued, the drinks kept flowing and the doorbell kept ringing. Before long, the small house was crowded with dozens of drunken Brits. As the temperature inside the house rose, most of the guests decided to make their way to the backyard.

 

“This is perfect,” Alexa determined, supervising as Ed and Harry struggled to maneuver the propane fire pit from the small garden shed. “See, and the tank just connects there, and then we won’t stink like a fire! Isn’t it great?”

 

“Fucking beautiful,” Ed grunted, stopping short in the middle of the stone patio. “This is good, yeah?” he asked Harry, dropping his side of the pit before Harry could answer.

 

“Oompf. Thanks, mate,” Harry replied, placing his end on the patio, careful not to damage the pit. He straightened up, looking around at the guests that were milling about. Kit and Kevin were still at the party, which was surprising. After humiliating Kit in front of the entire party, Kevin had spent the last hour in Alexa’s kitchen, guzzling back her scotch and feverously texting and calling his friends, trying to find something better to do. Evidently, he’d come up with nothing, because he was in the backyard, sitting on a bench next to Kit, thumbs still flying across his phone. Harry wondered if Kit would stay at Alexa’s if Kevin found a better party, but he knew she would obediently leave with Kevin.

 

“You having fun?” Harry asked Kit, pausing for a moment before sitting beside her on the bench, ensuring a respectful distance was between the two of them, though not wanting to.

 

Kit glanced towards Harry and nodded, feeling the familiar flicker of the butterflies in her stomach, butterflies that insisted on fluttering whenever Harry was close to her. “Yeah, it’s a good time,” she told him, wondering if she sounded at all convincing. She clasped her hands in her lap, the glow of Kevin’s cell phone bright against the dark night. No one else had their phones on them – it seemed to be an unspoken rule between the friends that they conversed with those around them, not those through the phone.

 

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on Ed and his struggles to attach the propane tank to the fire pit. “Nice that it’s dry out, anyway,” he mused, mentally kicking himself for talking about the weather, but being unable to talk about what he really wanted to with Kevin sitting on the same bench.

 

“Definitely,” Kit answered, glancing up at Kevin as he sighed loudly, phone pressed to his ear. He shot Kit a disgusted look before standing up and sauntering towards the house. She bit her lip, watching as Kevin walked away. She felt a sense of relief as he left Harry and Kit alone on the bench – had he picked up on the vibes between the two of them, he never would have left Kit’s side.

 

Suddenly left alone with Kit, Harry was at a loss for words. He wanted to be in this situation all night, but now that she was beside him, with no one else within earshot, he didn’t know what to say to her. After a few moments had passed – moments that felt like hours – he finally spoke up.

 

“I’m not dating Kendall,” he blurted out, instantly regretting the boldness of his comment. He looked down at his interlocked hands, avoiding Kit’s eyes. He didn’t know what he expected her to say in response to his declaration. He knew what he _wanted_ her to say, but she wouldn’t.

 

Kit was quiet; Harry’s sudden comment taking her by surprise. She looked down, her eyes cast upon his beautiful hands. “Why not?” she asked him, voicing the first question that came to mind. Guiltily, she realised she felt relieved that Harry wasn’t attached to the beautiful model.

 

“Because… she’s not the one for me,” Harry replied, tentatively nudging his elbow gently against Kit’s. “You know how that is, don’t you?” he asked quietly, almost pleading with her to agree with him. She had to know what it was like. There was no way she could be happy with a man like Kevin. Kevin didn’t appreciate her, Kevin didn’t respect her. Kevin had no idea how lucky he was to have her.

 

Kit looked towards the house, watching for Kevin to emerge again. She couldn’t bare her soul to Harry, not with the chance of Kevin returning from the house and overhearing her words. “No…” she instead answered, her voice almost inaudible. She wasn’t stupid; she knew Kevin could be nicer to her. But she also knew that she was loud, weird and likely more than a little annoying. Kevin put up with that… she didn’t think anyone else would.

 

Harry scoffed incredulously. “Really?” he asked rhetorically. He was aware he may be over-stepping his boundaries, but after seeing how Kevin treated Kit, he didn’t care. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re happy with him, then,” Harry challenged her, staring at Kit in an attempt to get her to look up at him.

 

Kit inhaled, aware as to how shaky her breath sounded. “Stop it,” she ordered, her voice sounding unnecessarily harsh as she kept her head down. Harry’s worry for her was incredibly endearing, but telling the truth about her lack of happiness made her feel like a pathetic child who couldn’t handle her own affairs. Her unhappiness was not a burden Harry needed. “It’s not your concern,” she added, knowing she couldn’t look at Harry and tell him she was happy with Kevin. “Just… stop,” she begged him.

 

Harry was quiet, fighting the urge to tuck Kit under his arm and kiss her hair, her cheek, her lips. If she thought she was doing a good job at convincing him that she was happy, she was wrong. “You deserve the world,” Harry told Kit, his voice quietly sad as Kevin approached the bench. Knowing he couldn’t be around Kevin and keep his opinions to himself, Harry stood up.

 

“Don’t forget that,” he advised her, reaching out and giving her shoulder a light squeeze, silently challenging Kevin. Luckily, Kevin was still glued to his phone and paid no attention to the touch between Harry and Kit. He glanced between Kit and Kevin a couple times before silently shaking his head at Kit. He hoped that she would realise how much she deserved before it was too late.


	7. Chapter 7

Kit stared at her hands as Harry joined his friends at the fire pit, feeling incredibly disgraced and alone. Sitting next to her boyfriend on the bench, Harry’s vacated spot causing the evening breeze to tickle against her body, she felt as though she let Harry down. Hearing Ed’s loud chuckle, Kit looked up to see Harry’s friends sharing in a laugh, and she wished she didn’t have Kevin by her side and could join in on the fun. Her stomach fell as she watched Kendall sidle up next to Harry and stick her hand in his back pocket, confidently flirting in a way Kit had never been able to do. She wondered if she should try to be touchy with Kevin, and make Harry feel how she was feeling while watching him with Kendall. But getting Kevin to pay attention to her while he was glued to his phone would be impossible, and Kit didn’t need to feel more humiliated than she already did.

 

“Yay!” Kendall cheered suddenly as the flame in the centre of the fire pit ignited. She pulled herself away from Harry, rubbing her hands together gleefully before holding them out towards the flame. “That’s, like, _so_ much better!” she determined, turning her back to the fire and catching Kit’s eyes. “Kit! Come get warm!” she urged, gesturing animatedly.

 

Kit braced her hands on the edge of the bench, trying to determine if she wanted to stand next to Kendall and her hands that insisted on being somewhere on Harry’s body. She looked at Kevin, his thumbs still wildly dancing across his cracked phone screen, before bobbing her head in a slight nod and standing up.

 

As Kit stepped beside him, Harry’s stomach tumbled. He found himself suddenly sandwiched between two girls, one with her hands in his back pocket and the other with her heart in his. He tried pretending Kendall’s hands were Kit’s, just for a moment in his own mind, but it was a futile effort. The feeling of irritation Kendall’s hands brought on proved too strong to ignore.

 

Standing next to Kit, her body obviously chilled as she stood rigid, hands stuffed deep in her pockets, was too much to bear. If he could have his way, he would be standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his chin tucked against her neck. They would share chuckles with his friends but he would be close enough that he could covertly whisper into her ear, the group party fading away into a party for two. But instead, he had to stand motionless next to the best girl he knew, while she stood alone and cold, all because she was an idiot with the wrong person, and he was a cowardly little boy.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Harry mumbled, downing the last of his drink before shaking himself free of Kendall’s grasp and walking towards the house, empty glass in hand. His drinks had been fairly mild throughout the course of the night, but he was feeling as though it was time to kick it into overdrive.

 

Kit turned her head slightly, watching Harry head into the house. He hadn’t even looked at her when she joined him, hadn’t spoken a word. She replayed what she’d said to him before Kevin sat back down on the bench, the tone of her voice when she ordered him to stop asking her questions about her relationship. Was he mad at her? Pursing her lips as the back door slammed shut with a noticeable bang, she nodded to herself. He was definitely not pleased with her.

 

Telling herself to count to thirty before making her own retreat into the house, Kit shifted her weight and stared at the synthetic flame, unaware Kendall was speaking to her until she felt the presence of her gaze. She looked up, startled to see Kendall staring so intently at her.

 

“I’m sorry,” she apologised with an embarrassed giggle. “I was just thinking… Trying to remember where the toilet is,” she said, uttering another giggle so as to not raise suspicions that she was about to bolt into the house after the boy Kendall called hers. “Be right back!” she assured Kendall, flashing her an incredibly fake smile as she stepped away from the fire.

 

As Kit darted into the house, the door slammed behind her with as much force as it had when Harry shut it just moments prior. It took her by surprise to realize she was upset with _Harry_ for being upset with _her_. As much as she appreciated his concern, he had no reason to be mad at her. He could voice his opinions about Kevin until he was blue in the face – Lord knew everyone else did – but he wasn’t allowed to be angry with Kit because she didn’t agree with him.

 

Stomping like a toddler towards the kitchen, Kit slammed her hand against the door, swinging it open. Harry looked up from the island, surprised by the aggression behind Kit’s entrance. He hadn’t expected her to follow him inside – if anything, he expected to see a giggly Kendall at the kitchen entrance. A smile tickled across his lips, but it quickly disappeared when he saw the scowl across Kit’s face.

 

“Hi,” he greeted sheepishly, looking back down at the drink he was assembling. “You want to do a shot with me?” he wondered airily, knowing she would say no.

 

Kit frowned, hesitating for a split second before barging across the kitchen and grabbing the shot glass Harry had just filled. Without a care about the lime or salt, she threw the tequila down her throat, wincing as she set the glass back down.

 

“Why are you mad at me?” she questioned, the liquor causing a burn down her throat that she desperately wished to rid with a glass of water. She abhorred hard liquor, and tequila was the worst. How Harry could drink the stuff straight was beyond her comprehension.

 

Dumbfounded, Harry stared at Kit, her drinking taking him more by surprise than her question. He hadn’t expected her to snatch the shot away from him and down it so effortlessly. Truthfully, it was rather sexy. “You… you were supposed to wait for me,” he commented dumbly, tapping the salt shaker against the counter with a nervous rhythm.

 

“I _said_ , why are you mad at me?” Kit demanded, watching his hands play with the shaker, purposely avoiding his eyes. It was easier to be mad at Harry if she didn’t look at him.

 

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry, looking at Kit questioningly. “I’m not mad at you at all. Why would I be? I… never could be, you know…” he added, his voice quiet.

 

Kit’s stomach fluttered at his words and she looked up, meeting his eyes. “You sure stomped in here like you were,” she pointed out, feeling relieved that he wasn’t mad at her, but wondering what set him off enough to burst into the house like a sullen child.

 

“So did you,” Harry reminded her, pulling the shot glass towards him and refilling it, silently challenging Kit to another one. She was wound tighter than a cobra; she needed to relax and have fun. He would never push her to get carried away, but knew if she did, he would take care of her. He would always take care of her, and he couldn’t trust Kevin to.

 

“Yeah, because _you_ did, and I’m mad that you’re mad!” Kit rebutted, watching Harry fill a second shot glass. She demandingly stretched her arm across the counter, reaching for the glass.

 

“I’m not mad!” he argued, pushing the second glass towards Kit, though he was. He was honest, he wasn’t mad at Kit. He was angry with everything to do with her, everything surrounding the party. He was angry she brought Kevin, he was angry that Kevin was who he was. He was pissed off at himself for bringing Kendall just because he was lonely and giving her the wrong impression, but mostly, he was pissed off that the one person he wasn’t pissed off at was taking the brunt of his anger.

 

“Then why are you yelling?” Kit said, the decibel of her voice overshadowing Harry’s own loud voice.

 

“You’re yelling too!” Harry yelped, his accusation punctuated with an incredulous scoff. He sighed, holding his glass up and waiting for Kit to lift hers. “I’m not mad at _you_ ,” he corrected, tossing his shot back. “I’m mad at… fuck, Kit… I’m mad about your… _him_ ,” he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Tequila shots weren’t nearly as fun without the salt and lime, but if Kit wasn’t going to use them, Harry very well couldn’t be the wimp that did.

 

“I’m mad that he treats you like shit, and you just put up with it. The Kit I know would never let someone talk to her like that, and you just sit back and fucking _take_ it!” The volume of Harry’s voice didn’t subside, and it took him a moment to realise he was shouting his words at Kit, though she continued to stare at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly not taking the intensity of his voice to heart.

 

“The Kit you knew,” Kit repeated, frowning at Harry. “You’ve been gone for over three years, Harry! You can’t just pop back into my life and start dictating how I live it, you know,” she added, crossing her arms across her chest. She wouldn’t ever tell Harry, but it hurt more than he knew that he found himself too busy for his Holmes Chapel people.

 

“Like hell I can’t,” Harry shot back, her words striking a chord with him. He constantly wished he could be in two places at once. He wished he was able to spend more time with Tim, and with Kit, and their family. He wished he was able to spend more time with his own family. But he couldn’t, and it killed him. “I’ve known you for, what, fifteen fucking years, Kit? If I think you’re doing something stupid, you can bet your ass I’m going to call you out on that shit! Besides, after everything Tim said –“

 

“Everything Tim said!” Kit exploded, not waiting for Harry to refill her glass. She reached across the island and snatched the bottle from him, giving him a challenging look as she filled up her glass. The tequila was still wretched, but getting easier to swallow with each gulp. “So you’re just going to believe everything my stupid brother says? You’re not going to listen to anything _I_ have to say? I thought we were friends, but friends actually listen to each other!”

 

Harry snatched the bottle back from Kit, drops of the toxic liquor spilling out of the top. “Exactly!” he exclaimed. “So listen to _me_! This guy’s a fucking asshole, Kit!”

 

“He’s not as bad as you think!” Kit argued, repeating the same words she’d spoken to anyone who had met Kevin and told her the same thing Harry did. She had to wonder, though… what was the common denominator?

 

Harry scoffed loudly, throwing his head back as he rolled his eyes at her comment. “I bet you can’t name one good thing about him,” Harry challenged her. “And I don’t mean his looks or how good he is…” He swallowed, trying pushing the horrifying thought of Kit and Kevin in bed together out of his mind. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I mean _him_. His personality, his demeanor. Does he hold doors open for you? Does he wave back when a kid waves at him? Does he bring your mom flowers when he sees her? Does he bring _you_ flowers, for that matter? Because I… cause if he doesn’t… what’s so good about him?” Harry asked, stopping himself from reminding Kit that he did, and would do, all of those things, and more.

 

Kit was quiet, her brow furrowed into an irritated scowl. “I can open doors for myself,” she finally answered, her voice huffy, though no power was behind them. She knew it was a pathetic reply. “And flowers die,” she added, refraining from telling Harry that no one had ever brought her flowers. If she did, he would, and she didn’t need pity petunias.

 

“Stop being such a fucking stupid idiot!” Harry snapped, instantly regretting the words he spoke. The look on her face told him he wasn’t the first one to call her stupid. Something about the so-called man sitting alone on the bench outside told him the S-word was a word he used frequently when describing Kit.

 

Kit crossed her arms across her chest in an attempt to hug herself against Harry’s words, shocked he’d spoken such harsh words to her. She could yell at anyone and not be bothered. She could go toe-to-toe with strangers – cab drivers, fellow students, cashiers – and revel in it, and she would argue with her friends or family just for the sake or arguing. If a word hit a nerve, Kit would make it known. The only person she couldn’t argue with was Kevin, but now, having a shouting match with Harry between shots of tequila, she realised she could add him to that list as well. But shouting at Harry felt different. Kevin would say hurtful things regarding Kit’s appearance or intelligence – cheap shots, to say the least. But she felt as though she’d really disappointed Harry, and his words meant something to her.

 

“I’m sorry!” Harry sputtered out. “I’m sorry, Kit… You’re not stupid, sweetheart,” he told her, the word coming out of his mouth before he could stop it. He couldn’t deny it felt good calling her that, but he couldn’t think about that.

 

Kit didn’t answer; fearful she might start to cry if she did. She thought Harry could be right – maybe she really _was_ stupid. It would explain why she was called it so often. She looked down at the counter, huffing out a sigh as she blew a lock of hair from her eye.

 

“Fuck…” Harry sighed under his breath, stepping around the counter to face Kit. She still refused to look up at him, and it didn’t take a genius to realise how much he’d upset her by his slip of the tongue. Using the same condescending word on her that he was certain Kevin used made him feel disgusted with himself.

 

“I’m sorry,” he told her again, his voice low as he gingerly stepped closer to her, gently nudging her chin up to face him. Stubborn as she was, Kit stiffened her neck, insisting on keeping her chin down. Accepting her stance, Harry wrapped his arms around Kit’s waist, drawing her closer to him. He exhaled a shaky breath as her body pressed against his, her shampoo wafting under his nose.

 

“It’s okay,” Kit assured Harry, letting her cheek rest against Harry’s collarbone and feeling incredibly secure in his arms, like nothing and no one could ever harm her as long as she was with him. Knowing she had a boyfriend sitting alone outside caused a pang of guilt to shoot through her body, but she still made no motion to move from Harry’s grasp.

 

“It’s not,” Harry murmured, allowing himself to tighten his grip on Kit. “I can usually control myself pretty good, but you… You’ve got me all fired up, Kit-Kat,” he told her, a teasing tone to his voice. He looked down at Kit, hoping she would look up at him and see that he was smiling. She kept her head firmly against Harry’s chest, but he could see her cheekbones rise as she smiled. Quietly, gently, he ran his hands up her back, feeling her soft skin on the nape of her neck, and ran his hands down again. She made no motion to stop him, so he continued… up and down, up and down. Neither one of them spoke as they stood motionless in their embrace, neither of them attempting to move.

 

“Harry…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Kit pulled away from Harry, looking into his eyes as she searched for a way to convey her thoughts into intelligible words. It was no secret that Kit didn’t have many friends. She was close to Charlotte, but Charlotte wasn’t close to her. Kit would tell Charlotte her deepest and darkest secrets, but Charlotte wouldn’t tell Kit what she had for lunch. She needed someone in her life, someone in her corner, someone who could listen to her gripes and actually _listen_ , without voicing their opinions. Standing alone in the kitchen with Harry, wrapped in his arms, she wasn’t sure if friends it what they were, but she knew friends was all they could be.

 

“Nothing…” she stated after a moment, her arms unconsciously tightening around Harry’s waist as he continued to trail his fingers gently across her back, her head finding the comfortable spot under his chin. Putting her feelings into words was an exercise in futility, and she found herself not wanting to disrupt their moment.

 

“Kit…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Harry’s voice was quiet as he spoke, Kit’s tight grip around his body urging him on. “I have to tell you something…” He swallowed hard, feeling like a child on the playground. But maybe if he could be honest with her about how he felt, she would come to realise how much he adored her, and how well he would treat her. “I… I really wanted to kiss you… on the stump, the other night…”

 

Kit’s body trembled at hearing Harry speak the truth she’d convinced herself wasn’t real. She was there; she, too, felt something in that moment by the swings. She tried to convince herself she was completely misled – Harry wouldn’t really want to kiss a girl like her – but now, hearing his words, she knew she was wrong. “I know,” she confessed quietly, keeping her head against his chest, hearing his heart hastily thud against her ear.

 

Harry moved his hand from Kit’s back for a moment, attempting again to tip her chin up to face him. This time, Kit obliged. He stared into Kit’s eyes, his one hand still running up and down her back, though slower and slower with each pass, while the other softly touched her face. He swallowed hard again. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. “I really want to kiss you now.”

 

“I know that, too,” Kit whispered, the butterflies and guilty pangs a cocktail of emotions inside of her. Every part of her being told her what she was about to do was wrong, but those same parts concurrently urged her on, begging her to kiss him.

 

Harry let his hand wander back up Kit’s back, gently cupping her cheeks. Finally, he was going to kiss her. He wanted to tell her so many things – about how he’d thought about kissing her since they were kids, how it wasn’t just the holidays that made him feel this way, how once he started kissing her, he was afraid he’d never be able to stop. But, for now, the words didn’t matter. All that mattered was, after all these years, feeling her velvety soft lips against his.

 

“Everybody, get up, singing one, tw—“ The door burst open as Nick danced into the kitchen, belting out the old 5ive song in a high-pitched mockery. He stopped short when he saw the embrace Harry and Kit held each other in, his jaw unconsciously dropping open.

 

Instinctively, Kit stepped back from Harry, attempting to hide what they were about to do to no avail. She kept her head down as she opened the fridge, avoiding both men’s eyes as she searched for another bottle of water. Nick interrupting them mere moments before they connected was clearly a sign that the kiss would have been a mistake. A delightful mistake, but a mistake no less.

 

“Uhh… sorry, guys,” Nick stated, laughter in his voice. He snickered, playfully shoving Harry. “Just grabbing a drink… don’t let me stop you,” he added teasingly.

 

Kit unscrewed the bottle, taking a long drink as her eyes met Nick’s. “Don’t…” she told him quietly, shaking her head at him. She didn’t think Nick would run out and tell Kevin the predicament he saw Kit and Harry in, but she needed him to know he couldn’t even joke about it. Kit didn’t want to think about how angry Kevin would be if he caught wind of the moment between his girlfriend and the charming crooner.

 

“Don’t worry, love… Your tawdry little secret is safe with me,” Nick assured her with a smirk, gently nudging Kit out of the way to grab his own drink. He pulled a beer from the fridge and cracked it, taking a swig before continuing.

 

“Besides, he’s gone now, anyway,” Nick continued, leaning against the counter and staring at Harry, silently telling him that he needn’t worry about getting caught by the muscly boyfriend now.

 

“What do you mean, gone?” asked Kit, a weight settling in the pit of her stomach. “He left? He left _here_?” She frowned, feeling in her pockets for her phone before remembering it was safely tucked away in her purse. “Why would he leave?” _Why would he leave without me?_ She wondered, the sick feeling still filling up her stomach. Kevin knew how nervous being alone in the city at night made her, and knew she was terrified to ride the tube by herself at any time of the day. But he left her behind, clearly not caring about her feelings. But while she was cuddled up with Harry, about to kiss him, Kit hadn’t been thinking about Kevin’s feelings either.

 

“Probably because he’s a repugnant twat,” Nick replied with a careless shrug. He offered Harry an exaggerated wink. “I’ll just leave you to it,” he called over his shoulder as he vacated the kitchen as quickly as he’d entered.

 

“I have to find my phone,” Kit told Harry, darting out of the kitchen behind Nick. Harry frowned, following Kit. Surely she wasn’t about to let _this_ moment fall by the wayside. He was disgusted with Kevin for leaving his sweet, lovely girlfriend behind at a party without a single word to her, but he was also relived that he didn’t have to worry about the burly man walking in on him while he was trying to make a move on Kit.

 

Kit hurried into the entry hall, pulling open the closet and erratically pawing through the contents in search of her handbag. Harry stood over her, watching, but she couldn’t look at him. If she looked at him, her feelings of kissing him would return, and she couldn’t risk that.

 

“Kit… are you… okay?” Harry asked after a moment, watching her frantically rifle though the closet, quickly dodging a shoe that she tossed over her shoulder. He reached down, placing a hand gently on her arm and was taken aback when he felt her body stiffen at his touch. “Kit,” he stated again, kneeling down beside her. “It’s okay,” he tried to assure her, wondering why she seemed so upset that Kevin left her behind. Wasn’t it a good thing? “I’ll…”

 

She jerked her body away from Harry, finally finding her purse under a jacket. She dug through it, searching to the very bottom before her fingers grazed her phone. Yanking it out, she stared at it in surprise when she realised there was no missed calls, no texts from Kevin. She let out a sigh, her guilt-ridden stomach – or maybe the tequila – making her feel nauseated as she tried calling Kevin. Her call went straight to voicemail, telling her that he had his phone on him, he saw it was her calling, and he chose to ignore her.

 

“Shit…” she mumbled to herself, pointlessly attempting to call him again. She stared at the phone in her hands, feeling incredibly abandoned, despite Harry sitting beside her. Self-deprecatingly, she wondered what she’d done to deserve such a terrible boyfriend.

 

Silently, Harry watched Kit attempt to contact her boyfriend, secretly pleased when he didn’t answer. Perhaps being left at a party and not answering her phone calls would be enough for Kit to come to the realisation that Kevin was worthless, and he was worthwhile. But when she tried to call him for the third time, followed by a text message, Harry knew it would be an uphill battle to get Kit to understand Kevin’s true character.

 

“Kit…” Harry began again, ducking his head as he looked at her, willing her to look at him.

 

“I have to go,” Kit blurted out, interrupting Harry. She finally allowed herself to look at him, and the sadness in his normally bright eyes nearly made her cry. She knew she didn’t deserve a man like Harry to be anything more than a friend, but right now, she didn’t know if she even deserved that.

 

“What?” Harry asked bewilderedly. He reached out for her hand, expecting her to recoil from him. Instead, she let Harry hold her hand for just a moment before tugging herself away. “How are you going to get home? Just stay…” he pleaded with her. “We’ll get you home later, just… be with me,” he told her, intending on repeating the word _stay_ , but a Freudian slip causing him to say what he truly felt.

 

Kit shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. “I’ll… I can’t,” she told him, her refusal a response to both of his statements. “I’ll call a cab,” she added, thinking of the unused emergency Visa tucked away in her wallet. She didn’t make it known that she had it – Kevin would have the card racked up in no time – but she couldn’t think of more of an emergency than getting away from Harry and the deceitful thoughts taking control of her mind.

 

“On New Year’s?” asked Harry, emitting a quiet, incredulous scoff. “Come on, Kit… you don’t really want to go, do you?” he asked, afraid of what she would answer.

 

Kit stood up, already searching through her phone for the number of a cab company. The line rang, conveniently causing Kit to ignore Harry’s question. Of course she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to sadly ride home in the backseat of a dirty cab and spend the midnight hour alone. She wanted to stay with Harry, to feel his touch on her and hear his heartbeat again. She wanted him to be her midnight kiss, every midnight. But she wasn’t the one for Harry, and the sooner he realised that, the better.

 

Harry exhaled impatiently as Kit quietly spoke to the cab company operator on the other end of the phone. He wanted to snatch her phone from her and throw it across the room, forcing her to stay. But, of course, he wouldn’t. She wanted to be with Kevin, and not with him. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realised he would have to accept that awful fact if he wanted any part of Kit in his life.

 

Kit hung up the phone, pressing her lips together as she looked at Harry. “They said ten minutes,” she told him, surprised she was able to get in touch with a cab so quickly. “I told them it was for you,” she added, her words intending to be a joke, but her face remaining stoic.

 

“I’ll wait with you,” Harry answered, irritated by the efficiency of the London cab company. He didn’t think he’d heard of anyone getting a cab that quickly, ever, but the one time he was alone with the girl of his dreams, the cab was practically Mach five-ing to pick her up.

 

Kit shook her head quickly. “You don’t have to,” she told him. “No,” she continued, interrupting Harry as he was about to tell her that he wanted to. She smiled wistfully at Harry, hoping she didn’t look as sad as she felt. “Go be with your date,” she told him, nodding towards the back yard. “One lonely girl without a midnight kiss is more than enough,” she told him with a short chuckle, hating the thought of Harry kissing Kendall.

 

He wanted to press further, insist upon waiting with her on the front steps until the cab came, but Harry could tell Kit was upset and uncomfortable. If he wanted any chance of being her friend – and eventually, hopefully more – he needed to respect her wishes, as much as he hated to. “Okay,” he said instead, shrugging dejectedly. He stepped closer to Kit, his hands finding her waist again. He couldn’t let her leave without feeling her body against his again.

 

“Please be safe,” he whispered to her, pulling Kit close to him, his words having more meaning behind them than just in regards to the cab ride home. Holding her tight, he pressed his lips gently against her round cheek. “Happy New Year, Kit.”

 

The butterflies caused by Harry’s light peck overwhelmed her, and she pulled away from Harry, her hand on the doorknob. “Happy New Year, Harry,” she echoed, smiling softly at him before she ducked out of the house, alone again.


	8. Chapter 8

Thursday, January 9, 2014

 

The raindrops tapped lightly against the window, the only sound in the room the erratic rhythm of the tiny droplets. The floor of Kit’s small flat felt as though it was covered in eggshells, the tension in the air thick as smog. Kevin sat across from Kit, his arms crossed over his chest as he scowled at his abashed girlfriend. Kit’s head was down, sheepishly picking at a tear on the throw blanket covering her bare legs, unable to make eye contact with her boyfriend.

 

“So,” Kevin spoke, his declaration cutting through the awkward silence filling the room. “Did you have a chance to think about your choices this week?”

 

“Yes,” Kit answered meekly. Save for a single text message on New Year’s Day, Kit and Kevin hadn’t spoken for the entire week following the holiday. Kevin had, in a sense, grounded Kit from him, and told her he would not be speaking to her for a week, during such time she was to think about the error of her ways and how her actions had upset him greatly. If, he’d told her, she could show that she was truly remorseful for her actions at the party, he _may_ be able to forgive her.

 

Upon reading Kevin’s text message, Kit was convinced he’d caught wind of the embrace between herself and Harry. She spent the week with her stomach in knots as she thought over everything she’d done wrong – not just on New Year’s Eve, but since the birth of their relationship. She thought about how she put no effort into looking nice for Kevin, how she was unable to cook him a proper dinner without burning something, how she was constantly speaking without thinking and making herself appear stupid. Her heart broke when she thought about how kind he could be – when he’d order pizza with half pineapple even though he loathed the fruit, because Kit loved it, or when he’d stay awake and play with her hair while they watched a movie she picked out, rather than passing out on the sofa. She thought about every moment they’d been together – every kiss, every embrace, every date, every argument – and knew she deserved to be exiled for the week.

 

Luckily, Harry hadn’t texted her at all since they’d said goodbye on Alexa’s front porch. She thought she would be eagerly anticipating hearing from him, but the radio silence made it easier to focus on fixing her relationship. She wished she could say she hadn’t thought about him the entire time she was in exile, but he had been on the forefront of her mind the entire time – making her feel even more guilty for her New Year’s escapades.

 

“And…” Kevin prodded, raising his eyebrow at Kit. She looked up at him for a moment before sheepishly dropping her head again.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to him, resembling a scolded puppy whose owner held a threatening newspaper in their hand. “I wasn’t thinking, and… I’m sorry I hurt you.”

 

“Well, you should be,” Kevin retorted. “You need to realise how uncomfortable I was at that party. I would never put you though that,” he added, though he had, many times, and would continue to do so. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Kit repeated, unsure as to what more she was to say to Kevin. She hoped he didn’t ask her details about her time with Harry – she was surprised to realise she didn’t want to share the details because the moment with Harry felt special to her, not because of what Kevin’s reaction would be.

 

“I mean… I don’t know why it took you so long to use the toilet, anyway,” Kevin added, shaking his head in disgust at Kit. “It’s gross to do that at other people’s homes. I thought we talked about that.”

 

With those words, Kit realized Kevin had no idea why she’d taken so long in the house. He assumed it was due to something she ate, not that she was about to kiss her childhood friend. She exhaled loudly, a sense of relief washing over her. Kevin eyed Kit curiously.

 

“No, sorry,” Kit told him, dismissing her sigh with a wave of her hand. “You’re absolutely right. I should have waited, and I should have waited with you. It won’t happen again,” she promised him, knowing full well it wouldn’t. After the way Kevin behaved around Harry and his friends, Kit was certain she would never see any of them again.

 

“Thank you,” Kevin told her, seeming to accept Kit’s apology. He sighed loudly. “You know, I had to talk to that Kendall chick. She wouldn’t shut up about her sodden horses. She’s a fucking retard. Makes you look like that God damn Stephen Hawking,” he added with a loud chuckle, as though a snide joke about Kit’s IQ was a stand-up worthy joke.

 

Kit chewed the inside of her lip, again looking down as she continued to pick at the blanket. “Yeah, I didn’t care for her,” Kit agreed, though Kendall didn’t seem _that_ bad to her. She was annoying and quite boring, but kind enough. “I’m sorry that you had to talk to her,” Kit added, not feeling sorry but knowing it was what she had to say.

 

Kevin huffed out another sigh, standing up. “At least you’ve learned your lesson… Right?” he questioned, eyeing Kit seriously, as though he was searching her eyes for a hint of a lie.

 

Kit nodded obediently. “I have, I promise,” she assured him. While he didn’t have the most orthodox way of conveying it, Kit knew that, despite his harsh words, Kevin cared about her. Why else would he insist so strongly that she better herself and learn from her mistakes? If he didn’t care, he _wouldn’t_ care.

 

“Good,” he affirmed with an authoritative nod. “I don’t want to have to have this same discussion again,” he told Kit, standing up. “Scoot over,” he demanded, stepping to the couch and plopping down next to Kit, grabbing her remote control. Not having cable TV or Nexflix at his own home, Kevin often played Couch Commando at Kit’s home. “Saw earlier that The Birds is on. Figure we’ll watch it,” he told Kit, his comment not a suggestion but a demand.

 

Kit paled as Kevin scanned through the channels. Horror movies were far from her favourite, a fact Kevin was well aware of. He also knew she was terrified of birds, and after accidentally seeing a trailer of the movie, watching Alfred Hitchcock’s horror classic was something she vowed never to do. But, obediently playing the role of subservient girlfriend, she didn’t voice her discomfort and nodded in agreement instead.

 

Undeterred by Kit’s silent response, Kevin slung an arm across Kit’s shoulders, tugging his girlfriend closer to him and dropping a kiss against her forehead. “You smell quite nice today,” he told her, seemingly unaware of his Jekell and Hyde persona. His niceties didn’t happen often. Kit wished they would happen more.

 

“Thank you,” Kit replied softly, a smile on her face and a twinge of surprise in her voice. She allowed herself to snuggle closer to Kevin, resting her head against his shoulder and praying the moment could last longer than just a few short minutes. But a feeling of anxiousness washed over her and she found herself unable to relax, knowing the moment was fragile and would end at any moment. As predicted, the two of them spent only a few minutes wrapped in a couple’s embrace before Kevin pulled away, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

 

“Ought to make us a snack, yeah?” asked Kevin, crossing his arms across his chest as though to tell Kit he wouldn’t be touching her until she obliged with his demand.

 

Kit pursed her lips together for a brief moment before nodding at Kevin and offering him a smile. “Of course,” she answered, regretting that she was more concerned with Kevin’s arm around her than preparing a meal for him. She stood up and mentally scanned through her pantry as she walked to the kitchen. Being a full time student living off loans in one of the most expensive cities in the world, snack foods were not something kept regularly stocked in her home. She hoped there was a bag of microwave popcorn shoved deep in the pantry and reminded herself to spend some extra money on treats for Kevin next time she went to the store.

 

 _A-ha_ , she thought, reaching past a flat of canned beans and grasping the small cellophane package. She tore off the wrapper, tossing it on the counter before bending the package in her hands, breaking apart the kernels inside.

 

“No popcorn!” Kevin called out from the living room, his words overlapping the beeping on the microwave as Kit pressed the buttons. “Makes your skin oily.”

 

Kit let out a sigh, watching the bag slowly spin inside the microwave. _What a waste_ , she thought, tapping the end button with another quiet sigh. “Kay…” she called back, slowly spinning on her heel and facing the pantry again. If only she had a magic wand – or a backbone – life would be much easier.

 

~*~*~*~

 

When Harry had insisted that he and Kit be friends, despite his amorous feelings for her, he knew it would be difficult. After bidding her a solemn farewell on New Year’s Eve, it had taken him a couple of weeks to work up the nerve to text her and each day that passed without texting her, he hoped she would be the one to text him. But, she didn’t. He was embarrassed that he took too long to speak to her again, and wondered if it was something he should even bother with. Though the moment he thought the thought, he immediately retracted it. There was no way he could go without talking to Kit, even if he had spent the better part of half a month cowering over the same fact.

 

The decision to text Kit turned out to be just the beginning of the battle. Once he’d determined he was man enough to send a message to her, he realised he had no idea what to say. He could simply ask her how the past couple of weeks had been for her, but he didn’t want to tell her about his past weeks. On a whim on New Year’s Day, he and Kendall had flown back to California for a skiing trip. She had mentioned it to him several times over the holidays, but Harry had refused each invitation. But after he realised there was no chance of a future with Kit, he grudgingly accepted. The paparazzi had been all over it, dubbing the two of them the new It Couple. It was mortifying. First Taylor Swift, now Kendall Jenner. Harry didn’t want to be known as the womanizer who only dated the hottest starlets, but the reputation was getting harder and harder to shake. He was certain Kit knew about his so-called romantic trip with the girl he’d said he wasn’t with, and he hated it. He knew he shouldn’t have gone on the trip with Kendall. It wasn’t fair to her, and though Kit seemed committed to her boyfriend, Harry didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about “Hendell” either.

 

When Harry finally sent a text to Kit, it was a simple “knock knock”, hopefully ensuring she would reply to him. It wasn’t until after he sent it that he wondered if it seemed like a cop-out; not texting her for two weeks, being seen all over Los Angeles with Kendall Jenner and sending an opening line for a joke rather than discussing the feelings from the holiday season. But when Kit texted back a cheeky “come in!” with a winky emoji, he had to laugh. Maybe being friends with her would be simple, natural… and hopefully easy.

 

Once the two of them got in the rhythm of texting, they fell into a routine of talking nearly every day. Harry was careful not to cross any lines – not being a big fan of emojis, he didn’t have to worry about accidentally sending the winking tongue face to her, but conveying emotions while texting was difficult. To avoid any misunderstandings, he simply sent Kit silly jokes, memes or random movie quotes. He was quite impressed by Kit’s ability to carry on full-on conversations using quotes from raunchy comedies, and was pleased he only had to Google a couple of them.

 

After spending the first few weeks of 2014 stateside, Harry was eager to get back to London. His schedule was harried, and he knew he could only go home for a couple of weeks, but he felt the urge to stand on UK soil, to see the Union Jack and, perhaps the most important part of his trip home, to see Kit. _As friends_ , he continued to remind himself. As friends.

 

Friday, February 8, 2014

 

After the long journey from Los Angeles to London, Harry was relieved to finally step foot into his North London home. The house was dark and cold, as it always was when he arrived home. He often wondered what it would be like to come home to a bright and lively home, a home that was warm and inviting and didn’t feel like an abandoned ghost house. But in order for his house to feel more like a home, he’d have to find himself a girl he could be serious with. There was only one, and she was already playing house with someone else. So, for now, Harry’s house would be as lonely as he felt.

 

He walked through the house, flicking on lamps and lights as he made his way to the kitchen. He was surprised to see a slow-cooker on the counter, filled with piping hot homemade soup, but considering he’d asked Nick to check in on his house while he was gone, it wasn’t a complete shock. Nick was a bit like the mommy to the group and always tried to ensure everyone was fed, clean and happy before he put them to bed. Leaving soup for his jet-lagged friend was a kind, typical Mother Nick move, and as his stomach growled in response, Harry realised he was incredibly appreciative.

 

Beside the crock pot on the counter was a balled up piece of fabric, a note beside it. Furrowing his brow, Harry picked up the note, reading it to himself.

 

_Hey mate, your little love muffin left this at Alexa’s! She prob did it on purpose so she can see you again ;) get some! Xoxo Nick <3_

Harry snickered to himself, unfolding the fabric. As he shook it out, he realised it was a scarf. After furtively glancing around, expecting someone to see him, he covertly pressed the scarf against his face and breathed deeply. He blushed as he realised what he was doing, but couldn’t help himself. It smelled just like Kit. Suddenly desperate, he needed to see her.

 

**Hi Kit-Kat. We’re in the same time zone again! I have a scarf at my house that you left at Alexa’s. I can bring it by, if you’re home?**

Harry exhaled, setting his phone down in an attempt to ignore it and wondering just how desperate he came across while he helped himself to a bowl of Nick’s soup. He’d barely filled the bowl when his phone beeped, signalling a new text.

 

**_bonjour monsieur! I’m in class til 2 but come by this evening!_ **

Kit smiled bashfully when Harry’s text came through. While texting him had become part of her daily routine, the texts exchanged between the two were light and humorous, completely lacking in any seriousness. As much as Kit wanted to talk about what happened between them on New Year’s Eve, and ask Harry why he was spending so much time with Kendall when he told her they weren’t together, the mood of their conversations was now canonically light-hearted.

 

But now he was going to come over, to her home, and the thought of seeing him again in the privacy of her flat made her sheepishly giddy. She would have to rein in her excitement and remember that she and Harry were friends, and nothing more. They couldn’t be more, she reminded herself. She had Kevin – a fact that wasn’t on the forefront of her mind quite as often as it should be lately.

 

 **Sounds good** , Harry texted back a moment later. He wanted to ask Kit if they should expect Kevin to join them, but he wasn’t sure how to ask without making it obvious that he was asking. He didn’t think Kit would invite Harry over while Kevin was propped up on her sofa, but stranger things involving Kit had happened, and likely would continue to happen. **I’ll see you later, then** , he added, wavering slightly before adding a silly smiley face after his message. He didn’t quite understand the emoji use, but Kit seemed to enjoy them. Maybe he could too.

 

The day dragged on and on. Each time Harry looked at the clock, he could have sworn it was moving backwards. Still, he tried to keep himself busy. He did a load of laundry. He attempted to reply to several emails, but wasn’t in the proper work frame of mind. He ate more soup. He tried to read another chapter in The Hunger Games, but just couldn’t understand the fuss. He ran for a bit on the treadmill, which reminded him he also needed to shower. He managed to take an uncharacteristically long shower and spend an embarrassing amount of time picking out a casual yet attractive, but not flashy or expensive outfit. He wondered offhandedly if this is what girls felt like before dates.

 

The thought caused him to stop short in his tracks. This was not a date. It was just two friends hanging out. He realised he didn’t even know if they would be hanging out. He could be driving all the way to Tower Hamlets and parking in front of a boarded up nail salon just to drop off a scarf and have his hubcaps stolen.

 

The thought was sullen, and he felt bad the moment he thought it. It wasn’t Kit’s fault that she lived in such a derelict neighbourhood. It also wasn’t Kit’s fault that he caught the feelings and she had a boyfriend. He, once again, reminded himself that if he wanted to be a part of her life, he had to accept the fact that she would not be his.


	9. Nine

When Harry pulled up outside of Kit’s building, he immediately felt bad that he’d judged her neighbourhood before even seeing it. The small, three story apartment building was located on a quiet, dead-end avenue. Two little old ladies sat on a bench across the street, and there were no gang members in sight. This wasn’t the Tower Hamlets he’d seen on the news, and he was relieved. Thinking of Kit living among drugs and gun fights was enough to make him want to kidnap her – of course, he wanted to anyway.

 

He climbed out of his car, clutching Kit’s scarf in his hand as he made his way up the chipped cement stairs. His stomach was twisting around erratically, something Harry wished would cease. There was no reason for it, he tried to convince his mind. He silently scolded himself as he pressed the buzzer for unit six, telling himself he was being ridiculous.

 

He shifted his weight as he waited to hear Kit’s voice come through the intercom. He was just about to press the button again – _like the obsessive nut you are_ – when he heard the window above him open, and a cheery voice call down, “hello!”

 

Harry looked up, seeing a grinning Kit leaning out the second story window, her messy hair blowing in the light wind. Seeing her bright, cheeky smile caused a wide grin to spread across Harry’s face, and it took him a moment to remember to reply to Kit.

 

“Hello, you,” Harry called back, beaming at Kit. She was incredibly adorable. “Erm… Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair?” He asked questioningly, feeling a bit silly reciting fairy tale quotes to Kit, though the grin remained on his face.

 

Kit laughed loudly, the old ladies across the road looking up at the sudden noise. Any thoughts of feeling silly instantly vanished with the sound of her laugh. Harry realised then that he would do anything to hear that giggle. “Well, we could give it a whirl,” she mused teasingly. “Or you could just use this key instead,” she added, holding up a small silver key on an obnoxiously large, fluffy pink keychain. “The buzzer lock is broken… Ready?” she asked him, dangling the key out the window.

 

“Sure,” Harry laughed, easily catching the massive keychain. He fumbled with it for a moment at the sticky front door before the latch gave way and allowed him to enter. His nerves were still giving him a hard time as he took the stairs to the second level, and seeing Kit waiting at the open door for him didn’t lessen the jittery feeling.

 

“Hi!” Kit greeted again, her voice sounding overly chipper. She had been anxiously awaiting Harry’s arrival all afternoon, and was unable to hide her excitement at seeing him. She leaned against the door jamb as he walked down the narrow hallway towards her. She had been apprehensive about her invite to him, wondering whether or not it was a good idea. Deep down, she knew it wasn’t. But as Harry stepped down the hall, all of her thoughts disappeared. He had a hold of her, something she couldn’t resist.

 

“Hi,” Harry echoed Kit’s greeting, stopping in front of her door and offering her a wide smile, sprinkled with a hint of bashfulness. Kit matched his smile, though the bashfulness apparent in Harry’s smile wasn’t present in hers. Without a second thought, she threw her arms around his waist as soon as he was close enough, pulling his body tightly against hers. Hugging him felt incredibly right, two pieces of a puzzle magnetized to one another, though with the lingering thought of her boyfriend in the back of her mind, her closeness to Harry also felt terribly wrong. But he’d insisted they were friends – though she found herself struggling with the insipidness of the word – and Kit never let a friend cross her path without receiving a hug.

 

Especially when that friend was Harry Styles.

 

To say he was taken aback by Kit’s greeting would be an understatement. For as awkward as he was feeling seeing Kit, he assumed she would be feeling comparable. Knowing he wouldn’t have initiated a hug – as much as he wanted to – he was thrilled Kit had done so.

 

Her body felt perfect against his, and as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders he could smell her sweetness – whether it was shampoo, lotion or just Kit, he didn’t know, but it was delicious. He loved it. He allowed his hands to run down her back just once, imitating his actions from New Year’s Eve. How was he supposed to be friends with her when she made him feel the way he did?

 

After a moment of an embrace, Kit came back to earth and met Harry’s eyes. She swallowed hard as she remembered the last time she’d seen him, and the last time he stood in front of her and looked into her eyes with such a shine in his own. With the memories of New Year’s Eve flooding her mind, she suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy.

 

“Uhm… well, come on in, then,” Kit remembered to tell Harry after a few too many beats had passed.  She stepped away from him, allowing him to walk into her apartment and attempting to refrain from inhaling deeply as he brushed past her. Still, the scent of velvety vanilla and sandalwood mingled with the crisp winter air lingering against his skin wafted past Kit and she had to remind herself to remember to breathe.

 

“Thank you,” Harry replied, stepping past Kit, who had her body pressed against the wall and her arms stiff against her sides. Despite their embrace, her stance left him feeling uneasy. Again, he found himself doubting his decision to visit Kit.

 

“You have a lovely place here,” added Harry politely in an attempt to lessen the sudden tension, though it was a stretch. The small flat was bordering on hoarder territory. The living room was crammed with mismatched furniture, piles of books, magazines and miscellaneous items were precariously stacked atop a chipped coffee table. A bookcase was shoved into the corner, stuffed with even more books. A wooden desk somehow fit beside the bookcase, but rather than being covered with books, it appeared to be a craft table. It was impossible to tell what activity Kit was working on – the makings of at least three different projects were scattered across the desk.

 

“Thank you,” Kit replied, her voice sounding as polite as Harry’s. Naively, she hadn’t thought seeing Harry would be awkward. They had texted nearly incessantly since New Year’s and Kit had convinced herself that their almost-kiss would be forgotten. Silly Kit, though. She hadn’t forgotten the moment. The way her skin tingled as he ran his hands up and down her back, the way her heart fluttered when he confessed he wanted to kiss her, the way she felt safe and accepted and exactly right in his arms. Try as she might – though guiltily, she knew she wasn’t trying to at all – she hadn’t forgotten the moment and the feelings. She was certain she couldn’t, and never would.

 

Harry, though unable to tell what Kit was thinking about being face-to-face with him after the New Year’s Eve moment, knew that the moments leading up to the kiss that almost was wasn’t something he could easily forget, nor did he want to. He didn’t want to forget how soft her skin felt, or how her hair smelled like a strange combination of strawberries and charcoal. He couldn’t forget the beat of her pulsating heart against his chest or how perfect she felt in his arms. For his own sanity, he knew he should at least try. But trying to forget about Kit wasn’t something he was prepared to do.

 

“Oh… uhm, here’s your scarf,” Harry remembered, thrusting his arm towards Kit and awkwardly holding the item towards her. Mentally kicking himself, he wondered why he was giving her the scarf so early. Delivering her forgotten clothing was the only reason he was standing in the middle of Kit’s living room. If he had been smart and suave, he would have purposely forgotten the scarf. Now, he realised he had no acceptable reason to stay.

 

“Thank you,” Kit repeated, accepting the scarf from Harry and tossing it onto the sofa. She pursed her lips together, shifting her weight. She didn’t want Harry to leave so soon, but would he feel obligated to now that he’d delivered the scarf she didn’t even care about? She was desperate to get him to stay, and almost considered texting a neighbour and asking them to slash his tires. But rather than being an accomplice in a crime, she blurted out her next idea.

 

“Would you like a drink?” Kit asked Harry, her tone sounding hurried, as though she had to extend the invite quickly, lest he decided to leave. Her brows knitted into a slight scowl, confident that Harry would turn her down the same way she’d turned him down. How unfair she was, asking him to spend more time with her while having to stay in the friend zone neither one of them wanted him to be in.

 

Harry beamed, his reaction surprising Kit. “Absolutely,” he replied sincerely, the bright grin never leaving his face. He had to refrain from jumping up and down, thrilled that Kit had offered to extend the evening invitation. He knew, sullenly, but he knew, that the evening would be nothing more than two friends hanging out. Kit had made her feelings abundantly known – she wanted to be with Kevin, not with Harry. Though not a conceited man, he couldn’t fathom why.

 

“Really?” asked Kit, vocalizing her surprise without thinking. She felt herself flush, but a smile crept onto her face, matching Harry’s. “I mean… well, that’s good, then,” she corrected, an embarrassed scoff escaping. “Come on,” she added, gesturing for him to follow her into the tiny kitchen. She grabbed the kettle from beside the stove and stuck it under the faucet, meeting Harry’s eyes.

 

“Tea’s okay, right?” she questioned, hoping he wasn’t expecting something with a higher proof. Despite her brazen tequila shots on New Year’s Eve, Kit much preferred a cup of tea and a handful of McVitie’s than the bitter alcohol and a morning headache.

 

Harry smiled. Kit was so refreshing. He couldn’t remember the last time he stood in a girl’s kitchen while she bustled about, brewing tea and throwing a stack of digestive cookies onto a plate. The girls he knew tried too hard. Kit didn’t try at all, which was the most endearing thing about her.

 

“Tea’s perfect,” he told her honestly. He chuckled quietly as he watched Kit stand on her tip-toes, reaching her arm up in an attempt to grab the teacups from the cupboard. He watched her for a moment longer, distracted by her gangly yet intoxicatingly sexy form, before offering his assistance. “Here, let me,” he told Kit, stepping closer to her and resting his hand against the small of her back. He was surprised he allowed himself to touch Kit in such a spot, and when she turned to face him, he could tell by the widening of her eyes that she was surprised as well.

 

“Thanks,” Kit told Harry, watching him as he easily grabbed the two cups and saucers from the top shelf. He smiled at her as he carefully placed the chipped china on the counter, causing Kit’s heart to skip a beat. He was so handsome. But more than that, he was so kind.

 

“You know…” Harry began, leaning against the wall as Kit examined the cups for dust. “In America, they boil their tea water in the microwave…” He let out a chuckle at the fact; not that it was overly amusing. But the tension encasing the room was suffocating and he was desperate to rid it. He wanted a reprise of the night before Christmas, before he’d insisted upon confessing his desire to kiss Kit. He wanted to hear her giggle and have her tell a silly joke, or dance aimlessly around the room. Instead, she was quiet and reserved, keeping her cards close to her chest, and it was all his fault.

 

Kit turned to face Harry, an incredulous look on her face. “In the _microwave_?” she asked him, her shock of the American way replacing the fluttery feeling she had after Harry’s gentle touch of her back. “Bloody savages,” she commented, shaking her head. “This is why you should just spend all your time here,” she continued, too distracted by her hostess duties to realise what she’d said. “People who boil their tea in a microwave can’t be… trusted…” she added, trailing off as she heard the words she’d spoken, feeling her cheeks heat up at her confession.

 

Harry grinned, wanting to grab Kit and kiss her fiery red cheeks. He didn’t think she could get more adorable, but when she was embarrassed, she was easily the sweetest thing in the world. Instead, he tucked himself closer to Kit, taking one of the polished cups from her hands.

 

“It’s true,” he mused, examining the floral cup. “First it’s microwaving water in a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee mug and pronouncing Zed like Zee, then it will be… World War Three and a hockey team in Las Vegas.” He snickered at his own joke, casting a sideways glance at Kit. When he saw a smile appear on her face, he felt relieved. Jokes were always a good way to break the tension, and if Harry had to become Jimmy Kimmel to get Kit to laugh, then apologies to Matt Damon.

 

“It’s a good thing you decided to make tea,” Harry continued, attempting to keep his tone facetiously serious as he set the cup down. He braced his hands against the counter behind him, the unspoken punchline of his joke causing a smile to break out on his face.

 

Kit looked up at Harry, a curious smile dancing across her cheeks. “Yeah?” She asked him, placing the tea bag in the bottom of each of the cups. He was laughing already, being part of a joke Kit was yet to be privy to. Normally, being left out of a joke would make her stomp her feet like a toddler, but Harry’s laugh was catching and she found herself laughing along with him without knowing why.

 

“What!” She demanded, her words vibrato as she laughed. Sharing a laugh with Harry, despite the unknown reason, caused the heavy air of the room to fade away, and leaving only two giggling friends behind. “Tell me!”

 

Harry ran his hand through his hair again before tugging on his lower lip in an attempt to cease his laughter long enough to emit the punchline. “Because… I’m wearing a _T_ -shirt!” He told Kit, his voice raising several octaves before he began giggling again. He knew the joke was ridiculous, and hardly certified to even be called a joke, but he was finally hearing the sound he longed for.

 

Kit stared at Harry for a moment, unsure if she’d ever heard such a terrible joke in her life. Finally, her eyes squeezed shut and she ducked her head, her hair falling against Harry’s arms as she doubled over with laughter. She clutched her stomach, the other’s laughter causing each of them to crack up even more.

 

“You’re such a dork,” Kit told Harry, giggling as she straightened up, reaching out and giving his arm a playful shove. Unintentionally, she allowed her hand to linger against his tattooed forearm for a moment, feeling his soft skin on an otherwise rough exterior. Hearing her breath hitch as she touched his arm, she quickly drew her hand away.

 

Harry shrugged, unfazed by her comment though silently pleading with her to keep her hands on him. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But it made you laugh, didn’t it?” He pointed out, smiling at Kit as he reciprocated the playful shove, nudging her shoulder and letting his fingers gently pull through a lock of her hair. Touching her was dangerous, but he couldn’t help it. “That’s all I was after, anyway,” he told her honestly, his tone soft. He was treading on thin ice with his confession, and knew his feelings for Kit would only leave him with a broken heart, but nonsensically he thought maybe, just maybe, he could somehow change her mind.

 

Kit smiled at Harry’s comment but didn’t say anything as she turned back to focus on the tea. Comments like that were what made being simply friends with Harry so difficult. Kevin didn’t try to make Kit laugh. He told her that her laugh was more like a cackle, and was astonishingly irritating. Not to mention, Kevin wasn’t funny.

 

“Mission accomplished, then,” Kit finally replied, turning back to Harry with a cup and saucer in her hands. “Best add some milk; it’s quite hot,” she advised him, letting him accept the tea before turning to the fridge and pulling out a small carton of milk.

 

 _So are you_ , Harry almost told her but caught himself in time. It was true, though entirely inappropriate and, with his luck, Kit would see it as another attempt at humour and laugh loudly at his non-joke. Instead, he obediently poured milk into his tea and stirred in a small spoonful of sugar to taste. He watched Kit tend to her tea, and smiled as she added too much milk and _way_ too much sugar, resembling a child desperate to drink tea though abhorring the taste.

 

“I’ve got that,” Harry told Kit, reaching out and grabbing the plate of cookies. As he followed her back into the living room, he felt incredibly domestic. He didn’t do things like this with girls. They went to fancy restaurants or on ostentatious trips. They didn’t sit around in cramped apartments, drinking tea and eating crumbled cookies. However, with a sinking feeling, he realised he did do things like this with friends. He couldn’t count the number of times he sat around a messy house with Nick or Ed, watching sports or romantic comedies on Netflix. He would lay around on the couch at Alexa’s house, comfortably silent as they both played on their phones. As far as friendships went, tea with Kit was entirely normal. But the difference was, Harry was entirely satisfied with his relationships with Nick, Ed and Alexa being strictly platonic. With Kit Carrington, not so much.

 

Setting the plate of cookies on the coffee table, Harry carefully gripped his cup and saucer as he stepped around the side of the table. He was about to settle onto the end of the sectional Kit had gestured to when a canvas print propped up against the wall caught his eye.

 

“Did you make that?” Harry inquired, placing his cup on the table and stepping past Kit to examine the painting. Gold coloured script spelled out the phrase “O, sweet creature!”. The font was a unique combination of Olde English and calligraphy, and while the painting was simple, Harry found it mesmerizing.

 

Kit followed his gaze, nodding when she saw what Harry was talking about. “I did,” she answered, feeling modest. She hadn’t been into painting for very long, and knew she was still developing her skills. Still, the painting Harry was looking at was one of her favourites. She found herself hoping he liked it too.

 

“It’s from Othello,” she added, scratching her fingers against her palms nervously. “There’s this scene when Iago is telling Othello about this dream that Cassio apparently had… Iago is trying to convince Othello that his lady is messing around on him. Which, spoiler alert… he does. So he says that Cassio had talked in his sleep about Desdemona, and he cried out ‘o, sweet creature’ in his dream…” Kit trailed off, her love of Shakespeare clearly apparent and warming Harry’s heart. He doubted Kendall could even _spell_ Shakespeare.  

 

Reaching over, Kit picked up the canvas and lightly traced her fingers along the letters, her pride in the piece evident. “It’s a rather fucked up scene, and there’s always debates on whether or not there’s, like… homosexual undertones, but…” She trailed off again, shrugging at Harry as she looked up at him. “I just always thought ‘sweet creature’ was such an oddly endearing term, so…”

 

It was odd, and it was endearing, just like Kit. The word creature was rarely used with affection, and while this term was used by a wickedly evil Shakespearian character in an attempt to sate the belief of an affair, Harry couldn’t think of a more precise way to describe Kit.

 

“I love it,” Harry told Kit honestly, watching her admire her work. “Why don’t you have it up?” he wondered, looking around the living room. The wall hangings were as eclectic as the rest of the apartment – some clearly store-bought, some vintage, but nothing that appeared to be homemade.

 

“Oh.” Kit answered, her voice flat. “Well… Kevin doesn’t like it,” she told Harry, regretting confessing the reasoning to Harry. Before his visit, she’d made a promise to herself to talk Kevin up, in an attempt to convince Harry that he wasn’t as bad as he’d seemed on New Year’s. But stating that Kevin wouldn’t allow Kit to hang her own artwork in her own home wasn’t the way to make him seem like a good man.

 

Harry scoffed loudly, shaking his head incredulously at Kit. “It’s your house,” he reminded her. He made a deal with himself, that if Kit could prove Kevin was a decent human being, he would believe her, and believe she was truly happy with him. But every time his name came up, Harry found himself hating Kit’s boyfriend more and more.

 

Kit shrugged again. “It should be appreciated,” she told him, straining to sound nonchalant but knowing she was coming up short. She traced her fingers carefully along the words again, thinking that sweet creature could be an apt way to describe Harry. Looking up at him, she offered him a small smile.

 

“Would you like it?” She wondered. She chuckled at her offer. “I mean, I’m sure your home is filled with… designer shit, but… You can say no, if you want to,” she quickly added, certain a wealthy rock star wouldn’t want her Poundland canvas covered with garage sale paint, but perhaps her friend Harry would.

 

“Really?” asked Harry, his face brightening at her offer. “I would love it,” he told her, not touching on her comment about expensive décor. He had some, of course, but knew now the most prized possession in his home would now be the Sweet Creature painting, given to him by the sweetest creature he knew.

 


	10. Ten

“You’re not serious,” Kit proclaimed, instantly regretting allowing Harry access to the remote control. She wrinkled her nose as she saw Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams’ faces pop up on the Netflix menu. Romantic comedies were far from her favourite genre, and the Notebook was easily near the top of her list of least favourite movies of all time. Not to mention, she couldn’t imagine anything more uncomfortable than watching love scenes with the man who starred in her own internal love scenes.  
  
“What?” Harry asked, looking at Kit with a wounded look on his face. He adored the Notebook and wasn’t afraid to admit it, but selfishly, he hoped watching the movie with Kit would set the mood and he could covertly make an innocent move on her.  
  
Kit let out an incredulous snicker. “It’s a fucking terrible movie!” she told him, laughing to soften the insult but speaking seriously. “Pretty sure it’s one of the worst movies ever made. In history,” she added for emphasis. “And that Noah putz is a real dickwad,” she informed Harry.  
  
The irony that the girlfriend of Kevin was calling Noah Calhoun a dickwad wasn’t lost on Harry, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he smirked at Kit, reaching over and poking her with the remote before dropping onto her lap, leaving the movie decision up to her. He didn’t care what they watched. He was just happy Kit had accepted when Harry suggested they watch a flick after they’d finished their tea. Again, he’d been prepared for rejected, prepared for her to tell him her boyfriend would be coming by soon. But, somewhat suspiciously, Kevin’s name had hardly been on Kit’s lips the entire afternoon. As much as he didn’t want Kit to hurt, he prayed they were having troubles and Kevin would be out of the picture soon.  
  
“Why’s that?” Harry asked with a laugh, curious as to what the character did to put himself in Kit’s bad books.  
  
Kit glanced sideways at Harry, clicking the remote control through the letters, searching for the movie of her choice. “Well,” she began, her tone matter-of-fact as she prepared to dive into her list of reasons. “First of all, he hangs from that bloody Ferris wheel and forces the dumb girl to go out with him. Then he builds that stupid house after how many years? Kind of psycho-stalker if you ask me! Plus… he loves her too much and… no one in the world ever loves someone else that much. Completely unrealistic,” she told Harry, the lines between her words saying  _no one in the world could ever love_ ** _me_** _that much_.  
  
Her comment hung in the air, surprising Harry. Her other points had merit – he thought the Ferris wheel scene was rather idiotic, too – but to hear her think that no one in the world could love someone as much as the two kids in the movie had loved one another broke his heart. Didn’t she think that she could be capable of loving someone that much, or having someone love her that much? He knew she could, and wondered… could he?  
  
“You’re rather passionate about your hatred, aren’t you?” Harry asked teasingly, wishing Kit was sitting closer to him so he could teasingly touch her again. But she had settled herself in the corner of the couch, tightly curled up, and Harry had taken the seat near the middle of the couch, as close to Kit as he could be without being obvious.  
  
“Well!” Kit scoffed haughtily, settling on a movie. “It’s just terrible!”  
  
“Speaking of terrible!” Harry exclaimed, gesturing to the television. “This is better than the Notebook? Come on!” He teased Kit, shaking his head at her.  
  
“Uhm… 2012 is actually an awesome movie…” Kit informed Harry, not waiting for his reply as she hit play. “And Woody Harrelson is lovely.”  
  
“I can’t argue that,” Harry agreed, propping his feet on top of Kit’s coffee table, knowing she wouldn’t care. “But, come on! It’s got absolutely nothing to do with science! I mean, the amount of heat needed to heat up the inner core of the earth… It’s just absurd!”  
  
“Hmm…” Kit hummed, rolling her eyes at Harry as she slid her body into a more horizontal position, head resting against the arm of the couch. His overreaction over her movie choice was quite adorable. “And where did you get your Science degree, Doctor?” She quipped teasingly, stretching her leg out and gently poking his thigh with her foot. Touching him again, even gently with her toe, awoke a flock of butterflies in her stomach. She wondered if he felt them, too.  
  
“Google, mostly,” Harry gibed back, grabbing Kit’s foot in a knee-jerk reaction. If she was going to initiate touching, he wasn’t going to ignore it. He held her small foot in her hand, unsure how to move his hand. He felt as though he had a kitten on his lap, and any sudden movement would make the animal bolt. He didn’t want Kit to bolt. His stomach tumbled as he gently held her, shyly avoiding her eyes.  
  
Kit giggled at his response, shifting her position further down the couch, ensuring her kept her foot against Harry’s lap. She tried to ignore the guilty feeling encompassing her mind, not wanting to think about how she would feel if some girl had her feet tucked against Kevin’s lap. The line between friendship and more was becoming blurrier each time Kit saw Harry. She had told herself she could handle it, if it ever became anything to handle, but now she wasn’t so sure if she could. Still, she made no effort to separate herself from Harry.  
  
“What are these, anyway?” Harry asked, using his question as an excuse to run his hands along Kit’s socked feet, tugging playfully on the plastic appliqued to the bottom of the sock. “They look like grandpa socks,” he added, brazenly rubbing his thumb across the top of Kit’s foot. He adored the closeness, delighted that she initiated it. He only hoped he didn’t enjoy it  _too_  much. Given the close proximity of her foot, Kit would quickly discover if Harry gave her a full salute and would likely disengage the closeness. He let out a quiet sigh, trying to picture his grandmother in a bikini. Though with his hands still touching Kit, she was the one he found himself picturing in a revealing garment, not his grandmother.  
  
“Grand _ma_ ,” Kit corrected with a cheeky grin, the butterflies in her stomach almost nauseating her as Harry’s strong hands pressed against her foot, ticking around her ankle. She found herself wanting to touch him back, to hold his hand or rest her head against his shoulder. For a brief moment, she wondered how bad it would be. If she cuddled with Harry, or held his hand, or allowed him to place his hands on her, would it be cheating? Would it be allowed? Kevin had cheated on her – didn’t that mean she could have one free pass and kiss Harry? Female friends held hands all of the time – couldn’t she with Harry? But it was different, and she knew it was different. Still, she wished it wasn’t.  
  
“My grandma got these socks when she broke her hip,” Kit continued, reaching down to tug the oversized socks up and allowing her hand to lightly graze Harry’s. Why was she doing this to herself? “They, uhm… the hospital made her wear them. So she wouldn’t slip and fall. So now  _I_  won’t slip and fall,” Kit added, snickering shortly at herself.  
  
Harry’s breath caught in his throat when Kit’s hand touched his. Was it intentional, or was it merely an accident? What was she telling him to do? She already had her feet on his lap, was hand-holding next? What would she do if he tried to hold her hand? His mind was racing at the thought of getting even closer to Kit. While on one hand, he didn’t want Kit to feel bad about betraying Kevin, on the other hand, he wanted her to betray him so Harry could reap the benefits of said betrayal and be the winner. Kevin was a loser and deserved to be a loser in every sense of the word. He didn’t deserve Kit. Harry wasn’t even sure if  _he_  deserved Kit, but knew he would try every single day to make it her best day ever. She just had to let him.  
  
“Well… you are rather clumsy, so… it’s probably a good idea,” Harry teased, hoping his teasing comment would warrant another light kick or poke from Kit. “I won’t always be there to rescue you from tree stumps, you know,” he added, his comment quietly wistful as he remembered the night back in December, and wishing he’d kissed Kit then like he wanted to. Maybe she would have been his by now if he hadn’t been such a coward.  
  
“I wish you were,” Kit admitted softly, her voice so low Harry almost didn’t hear her. But as she was saying the same thing he was thinking, he knew. He met her eyes for a moment, his heart swelling when she smiled at him. It took all of his strength to remain seated and not jump across the couch to smother Kit’s adorable face in kisses. Instead, he smiled back at her and, when Kit broke eye contact, he continued to gently run his hand against her foot. He didn’t know what they were doing, but he didn’t want it to stop.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
As the movie continued, and John Cusack sped through a collapsing Los Angeles in a limo, Harry and Kit’s positions slowly changed. He wasn’t sure if it was her, and she wasn’t sure if it was him, but by the time the group in the movie arrived in China, Kit and Harry found themselves both settled in the middle of the sofa, bodies touching. She was still on her side, knees bent, but given their closeness, her long legs resembled a seat belt across Harry’s lap. Her bottom was nearly touching his side and he had his arm resting across Kit’s hip, fingertips grazing her thigh. Neither one of them spoke, and neither one of them looked at the other. They both knew their positioning wasn’t commonplace for people who were just friends, but neither one of them wanted to move.  
  
“So they can just drive the car out, like they’re leaving a car park?” Harry asked with a sigh. He was surprised he was paying a modicum of attention to the awful movie, considering the cute girl draped over him, but, like a car accident, the movie was impossible to look away from. “And what’s with John Cusack’s face? He looks as though he’s got a permanently stuffed nose. He’s not very good,” he added, his voice unintentionally sounding haughty.  
  
Kit laughed loudly at Harry’s arrogance. “Okay, Al Pacino,” she teased him, lightly swatting at his bicep and trying not to focus on the firmness of the muscle. “How many Oscars did you get for This Is Us?” she asked him, stretching her hands apart as though to allude to a marquee.  
  
Harry snickered at Kit’s comment, glancing down at her. She was beaming at her own joke, and while it was a dig on him, Kit’s grin made Harry not even care. “Shut up,” he told her good-naturedly, tickling the inside of her knee. With an adorable squeal, Kit reflexively extended her leg and gave Harry another swat.  
  
“Don’t, I’m so ticklish!” She whined, laughter behind her voice. She knew that by telling Harry she was ticklish, he would only tickle her more. The unsettling part was, she wanted him to.  
  
“Is that so?” Harry pondered, a slow grin creeping onto his face. Unashamed, he knew it was the most childish form of flirting ever, but if it meant he could touch Kit and keep her laughing, he didn’t care how immature he seemed. He tapped his fingers up Kit’s calf, laughing as she squirmed in anticipation below him.  
  
“Don’t!” Kit exclaimed, her laughter overthrowing her demand. She felt Harry’s fingers along her leg, inching closer to the tender spot behind her knee. Instinctively, she stiffened her body as he teased the tendons, squeezing her eyes shut as she laughed.  
  
“Harry!” she choked out between giggles. “Sto-oo-op!” She reached out, grabbing his tickling hand in an attempt to cease his actions. He stopped as soon as she took his hand, both of them realising she’d intuitively laced her fingers through his. Though the tickling had stopped, she made no motion to release his hand.  
  
“You’re such a bugger,” she told him after a moment, her heart pounding with such force, she was certain Harry could hear it. His hand felt warm against his, though she couldn’t tell if it was his or hers that was so clammy.  
  
“Maybe just a bit,” Harry agreed, allowing his fingers to gently squeeze against Kit’s hand.  
  
“Just a bit…” Kit echoed, letting the words fade against the air, neither of them knowing what else to say. They could talk about why they were laying on the couch against each other, hands interlocked, while she had a boyfriend and they were supposed to be just friends, but speaking of the elephant in the room would only make them feel as though they had to separate and continue the charade of being just friends.  
  
As the overacted, CGI scenes continued to play in front of them, Harry and Kit remained joined, their connection almost casual by this point, as though it was something they’d been doing for years. Though he adored being interlocked with Kit, Harry had to let out a sigh, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ll be right back,” he told Kit, letting his hands linger against Kit’s legs as he lifted them, allowing himself to stand up, though not wanting to. But he’d put off using the washroom for as long as he possibly could, the discomfort of a full bladder worth it to be close to Kit. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Kit on the couch and wondering if she would still be lying in the middle when he returned.  
  
Kit watched Harry walk away before rolling onto her back and covering her face with her hands. She was in  _deep_. Way too deep. She realised Kevin hadn’t been on her mind during her cuddle-fest with Harry, and that made her feel even guiltier than before. Now, she wasn’t just not acknowledging his feelings, but she wasn’t acknowledging him at all. Given her blatant disregard for her current relationship, she didn’t know why Harry would want to have anything to do with her. She was becoming as bad as Kevin.  
  
Pulling herself into a seated position, Kit crossed her legs Buddha-style and rested her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. She wished she was good enough to deserve someone like Harry – the decision would be easy if she was. But while Harry wanted to touch her and kiss her now, it wouldn’t take him long to realise she was nothing but an annoying brat, a nuisance and the ugly duckling. She was small-town, inexperienced and juvenile. Kit wasn’t the kind of girl Harry would want to have on his arm during the red carpet. He would be the laughing-stock of the industry if he showed up in a Gucci suit with a scrawny nobody, with stringy hair and buggy eyes. It broke her heart, thinking of how undeserving she was of the one person she wanted most.  
  
When he came out of the bathroom, Harry’s heart sank when he saw Kit had straightened up, putting an end to their intimate moment. He’d expected it, though. The moment was becoming too much, and opening the door for even more. While he was willing to do anything Kit wanted to do, he knew she wouldn’t let their moment extend any further than it had. She was such a good person – better than Harry, who was more than happy to aide in Kit cheating on Kevin.  
  
Harry smiled at Kit as he sat down, being sure to settle close beside her as before, despite her new position. He didn’t know what to say to her so instead, he let his actions do the talking and rested his hand against the top of her knee – hoping Kit wouldn’t push him away.  
  
“So, how many Oscars did this flick win anyway?” Harry wondered teasingly, giving Kit’s leg a gentle squeeze. He wanted to get the moment back. Whether or not he could would be determined.  
  
“Not as many as the Notebook, clearly,” Kit quipped back, her stomach tumbling at Harry’s touch. She knew she should move away from him, settle herself on the far side of the sofa again and pay attention to the movie, not him. But she didn’t think she was physically capable of being away from Harry, and his touch was so gentle, so lovely, she was completely strung out and insatiable.  
  
“Clearly…” Harry echoed, letting out a throaty chuckle as he traced his fingers along the patterned texture of Kit’s leggings. He wished he could touch her bare legs, but he was already having a difficult enough time keeping his lewd thoughts at bay, touching her naked thigh wouldn’t help. “I think I could get you to like the Notebook,” he added, gesturing to the television. “Don’t tell me you’d rather watch this fat Russian man than Ryan Gosling,” Harry teased, wondering if Kit would find the blonde Canadian better looking than himself, and instantly feeling embarrassingly jealous.  
  
“I don’t like the Notebook because it’s bloody awful, not because of who’s in it,” Kit reiterated to Harry, his dancing fingers sending sparks throughout her body. “Ryan Gosling’s hot, and he’s a good actor… but even that’s not enough to make the movie tolerable.”  
  
“But why?” Harry pressed, his insistence on Kit liking the Notebook having more to do with her own ability to love and be loved, and nothing to do with her actual opinion on the movie. He had to know why she didn’t think it was possible for someone to think she hung the moon, and then do everything in his power to show her that she actually did.  
  
Kit laughed, eyeing Harry dumbfoundedly. “What do you care so much for?” she asked him. “You get some kind of commission on this movie or what?”  
  
“I should look into that, shouldn’t I?” Harry mused, nudging his shoulder against Kit’s. “Probably make a real killing. I can be pretty persuasive,” he added, giving Kit’s knee another squeeze, as though to insinuate that his persuasiveness meant more than just getting people to watch movies.  
  
“But I can be pretty stubborn, though,” Kit answered truthfully, knowing Harry’s comment about persuasiveness had nothing to do with the Notebook. She watched his hand flit across her leg, concurrently wishing he would stop and hoping he never would. “You might just be wasting your time…”  
  
Harry’s hand stopped moving. He looked at Kit, who felt his gaze and met his eyes. Her stare was so wide, so timid, as though she’d opened the doors to her soul and was hesitantly letting Harry in. She took his breath away.  
  
“Nothing is a waste of time… with you…” Harry assured Kit, lifting his hand from her leg and allowing his fingers to weave through her hair. Physically, he felt pained being this close to her and not feeling her soft lips against his. He was so close, and she hadn’t looked away from him. His focus darted back and forth between her big eyes and delicate lips. It would be so easy to kiss her, but he knew he had to leave it up to Kit. She was the one with the conscience, not him.  
  
“Harry…” Kit’s voice was breathless, a quiet tone.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Kit dropped her head for a moment, collecting her thoughts. She knew what she wanted to say to Harry, but knew there was no going back once she conveyed her emotions to him. She looked up again, locking eyes with Harry and exhaling quietly. “I want to kiss you,” she told him, her voice a nearly inaudible whisper. Her stomach somersaulted as she spoke the words, but she realised after a moment the feeling wasn’t caused by the guilt of her words, but the anticipation of what could be next.  
  
Harry felt an internal surge at Kit’s words. It took all of his strength to refrain from doing what she said she wanted to do, what he’d wanted to do with since he first started to look at girls as  _girls_. He let his fingers brush against her neck through her hair, silently willing her closer to him. “So kiss me,” he told her, his voice husky.  _God, please just do it_ , he silently prayed, his body tingling ferociously.  
  
The internal battle between the devil and angel on Kit’s shoulders was excruciating. She wanted nothing more than to kiss Harry, to feel his warm lips against hers and finally taste his sweet mouth after so many years of yearning for it. She knew Kevin would never know, but  _she_  would know. Kit also knew that once she started kissing Harry, she wouldn’t ever stop. “You know I can’t…” Kit whispered, silently begging Harry to ignore her and kiss her himself.  _I won’t push you away, I promise_ , she thought, willing him to hear her message.  
  
“You can…” Harry whispered back, feeling tremendously guilty that he was forcing Kit to do something she was clearly struggling with. He wished he could understand why she had such an allegiance to someone like Kevin, when he didn’t have the same loyalty to her. “Kit… you can…” Harry urged her, a pleading tone in his quiet voice. “Kiss me,” he repeated, feeling his heart drop as Kit broke eye contact, her head drooping.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she told him, wanting to smack herself for letting the situation get as out of control as it had. At first, she was only worried about hurting Kevin. Now, she could tell she’d hurt Harry as well, which pained her more than she ever thought possible.  
  
Harry pressed his lips gently against the crown of Kit’s head, the closest he would be getting to kissing her. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her, tipping her head up, forcing her to look at him again. “Got that?” He asked her. “Don’t ever apologise for being a good person, Kit-Kat,” he added, absentmindedly wondering why he was consoling the girl who was breaking his heart.


End file.
